University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


TWASINTA'S  SEMINOLES; 


OR, 


RAPE  OF  FLORIDA. 


BY 

ALBERY  A.  WHITMAN, 


REVISED  EDITION. 


ST.  LOUIS: 
NIXON-JONES  PRINTING  CO. 

1885. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1884,  by 

ALBERY  A.  WHITMAN, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


DEDICATION. 


TO   THE    RT.    REV.    H.    M.    TURNER,    D.D.,  LL.D., 
THIS   VOLUME 

IS 
RESPECTFULLY   INSCRIBED 

BY   ONE   WHO 

ADMIRES    HIM    AS    A    VERY   NOBLE    REPRESENTATIVE    OF 
HIS    RACE. 

WHITMAN. 


PREFACE. 


The  cordial  reception  given  the  first  edition  of  this 
poem  by  the  American  people,  prompts  me  to  change 
my  former  address,  by  adding  a  word  to  the  public. 

Youth  thinks  extravagantly  and  often  speaks  more 
so,  but  sober  experience  comes  on  to  correct  us.  I 
have  found  that  I  need  not  quarrel  and  that  complain- 
ing is  unmanly.  Going  among  the  people  for  myself,  I 
have  seen  that  the  whites  have  cheerfully  vied  with  my 
own  race  in  putting  me  before  the  public.  Kindness  is 
a  law  unto  herself,  and  in  her  dominions  all  subjects  are 
willing.  She  opens  her  hand  with  benefits,  and  forgets 
not  the  humble  in  passing.  This  beautiful  truth  has 
been  taught  me  by  the  many  who  have  heard  my  sing- 
ing. The  wise,  the  good,  and  great  have  heard  me, 
and  said  that  they  heard  a  poet.  And  saying  so  much 
of  me,  an  obscure  young  man,  it  causes  me  to  hope 
afresh,  and  feel  that  life  is  worth  living. 

I  am  in  active  sympathy  with  the  progressive  colored 
man.  I  have  a  mind  to  think  that  he  has  a  calling 
among  his  fellow-men.  It  may  be  noticed  here  that  I 
use  the  words,  colored  man,  instead  of  the  word  Negro. 
I  do  this  becanse  my  feelings  decide  in  favor  of  colored 
man  by  a  vote  of  eight  to  seven.  I  am  in  active  sym- 
pathy with  America's  coming  colored  man.  I  have 
yielded  to  the  firm  belief  that  he  has  a  future.  I  abhor 
the  doctrine  that  he  is  but  a  cipher  in>the  world's  great- 


8  PREFACE. 

ness  —  a  captive  in  the  meshes  of  dominating  influ- 
ences. I  abhor  it  because  it  is  arrogantly  asserted  on 
the  one  hand  while  it  is  too  often  tacitly  admitted  on 
the  other.  Yet  I  confess  that  liying  instances  of  real 
merit  only  will  correct  the  world's  judgment  and  force 
its  respect.  To  this  end  I  have  laid  out  my  life.  Mod- 
est enough  to  be  patient,  I  am  not  too  tame  to  assert 
that  I  have  some  hope  of  ultimately  reaching  the  ears 
of  my  countrymen. 

I  am  a  colored  man,  and  as  such,  I  accept  the  situa- 
tion, and  enter  the  lists  with  poised  lance.  I  disdain 
to  whine  over  my  "  previous  condition."  I  despise  the 
doctrine  of  the  slave's  allowance.  Petition  and  com- 
plaint are  the  language  of  imbecility  and  cowardice  — 
the  evidences  of  that  puerile  fear  which  distinguishes 
the  soul.  The  time  has  come  when  all  "  Uncle  Toms  " 
and  "  Topsies  "  ought  to  die.  Goody  goodness  is  a  sort 
of  man  worship :  ignorance  is  its  inspiration,  fear  its 
ministering  spirit,  and  beggary  its  inheritance.  Genius, 
in  a  right  good  soul,  is  the  highest  impress  of  the  Divine 
Image  on  clay.  It  alone  can  have  the  respect  of  God 
and  man.  Dumb  endurance  is  the  stamp  of  heroism 
and  mortal  greatness.  To  it,  all  earth  is  place,  all  time 
opportunity,  heaven  companionship  and  God  a  friend. 

As  for  myself,  I  was  "bred  to  the  plow."  Amid  the 
rugged  hills,  along  the  banks  of  Green  River  in  Ken- 
tucky, I  enjoyed  the  inestimable  blessings  of  cabin  life 
and  hard  work  during  the  whole  of  my  early  days.  I 
was  in  bondage,  —  I  never  was  a  slave,  —  the  infamous 
laws  of  a  savage  despotism  took  my  substance  —  what 
of  that  ?  Many  a  man  has  lost  all  he  had,  except  his 
manhood.  Adversity  is  the  school  of  heroism,  endur- 
ance the  majesty  of  man  and  hope  the  torch  of  high 


PREFACE.  9 

aspirations.  Acquainted  with  adversity,  I  am  flattered 
of  hope  and  comforted  by  endurance. 

As  to  the  merits  of  this  poem,  I  shall  not  venture  a 
word.  If  merit  there  be,  it  will  be  found.  If  none, 
palliating  words  will  not  soften  criticism.  I  simply  pre- 
sent Atlassa,  Ewald  and  Palmecho,  with  their  asso- 
ciates, to  the  public,  and  "  bow  out." 

Of  poetry  in  general,  however,  I  will  say :  I  am  not 
of  those  "who  think  a  poet  and  a  bell-ringer  to  be 
equals."  I  do  not  believe  poetry  is  on  the  decline.  I 
do  not  believe  that  human  advancement  extinguishes 
the  torch  of  sentiment.  I  can  not  think  that  money- 
getting  is  the  whole  business  of  man.  Rather  am  I 
convinced  that  the  world  is  approaching  a  poetical  revo- 
lution. The  subtle  evolution  of  thought  must  yet  be 
expressed  in  song.  "  Poesy,"  says  one,  "  is  the  lan- 
guage of  the  imagination."  Campbell  said,  "  it  is  the 
eloquence  of  truth."  As  we  understand  it  to-day,  I 
think  poetry  is  the  language  of  universal  sentiment. 
Torch  of  the  unresting  mind,  she  kindles  in  advance 
of  all  progress.  Her  waitings  are  on  the  threshold  of 
the  infinite,  where,  beckoning  man  to  listen,  she  inter- 
prets the  leaves  of  immortality.  Her  voice  is  the 
voice  of  Eternity  dwelling  in  all  great  souls.  Her  aims 
are  the  inducements  of  heaven,  and  her  triumphs  the 
survival  of  the  Beautiful,  the  True,  and  the  Good.  In 
her  language  there  is  no  mistaking  of  that  liberal 
thought  which  is  the  health  of  mind.  A  secret  inter- 
preter, she  waits  not  for  data,  phenomena  and  manifes- 
tations, but  anticipates  and  spells  the  wishes  of  Heaven. 

Poesy  is  fair,  and  to  her  all  things  are  fair :  the  rain 
prophesies,  and  seasons  and  soil  give  testimony  that 
God  is  a  friend  of  all  His  creatures,  and  man  is  His 


10  PREFACE. 

delight.  In  great  forests  she  sees  temples  reared  and 
hears  the  sounds  of  praise.  The  dumb  rocks  are  silent, 
but  express  all  real  prayer. 

Poesy  is  free,  and  knows  not  of  hire.  Beauty  is  her 
inspiration,  —  her  creed  is  Truth,  and  Goodness  her 
Divinity.  The  first  she  praises,  magnifies  the  second, 
and  adores  the  third.  And  to  end  all,  in  her  divine 
right  a  teacher,  she  brings  benefits  even  to  the  lowly. 

Of  myself  in  this  matter,  I  will  add  :  I  began  to  try 
sayings  of  poetry  before  I  knew  what  writing  was. 
Before  I  could  write  a  letter,  I  was  trying  to  scribble 
down  what  the  birds  and  bees  and  cows  were  saying 
and  what  even  the  dumb  rocks  were  thinking.  Nature 
has  ever  had  a  speech  for  me,  and  in  listening  to  her 
voice,  lies  my  satisfaction.  Finally :  in  essaying  the 
"  stately  verse,"  mastered  by  only  Spenser,  Byron,  and 
a  very  few  other  great  poets,  I  may  seem  to  have 
"  rushed  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread."  To  this  view 
of  the  matter,  I  will  say  by  way  of  defense :  some  one 
of  my  race  is  sure  to  do  everything  that  any  one  else 
has  ever  done,  and  as  none  of  my  race  have  ever  exe- 
cuted a  poem  in  the  "  stately  verse,"  I  simply  venture  in. 

ALBERY  A.  WHITMAN. 


TWASINTA'S  SEMINOLES;  OR  RAPE  OF 
FLORIDA. 


CANTO   I. 

I  NVOCATION. 
I. 

The  poet  hath  a  realm  within,  and  throne, 

And  in  his  own  soul  singeth  his  lament. 

A  comer  often  in  the  world  unknown  — 

A  flaming  minister  to  mortals  sent ; 

In  an  apocalypse  of  sentiment 

He  shows  in  colors  true  the  right  or  wrong, 

And  lights  the  soul  of  virtue  with  content ; 

Oh !  could  the  world  without  him  please  us  long  ? 

What  truth  is  there  that  lives  and  dotes  not  live  in  song  ? 

II. 

"The  stuff's  in  him  of  robust  manliness, 

He  is  a  poet,  singing  more  by  ear 

Than  note."     His  great  heart  rilled  with  tenderness, 

Thus  spoke  the  patriarch  bard  of  Cedarmere 

Of  me,  who  dwelt  in  a  most  obscure  sphere  ; 

For  I  was  in  the  tents  of  bondage  when 

The  muse  inspired,  and  ere  my  song  grew  clear, 

The  graceful  Bryant  called  his  fellow-men 

To  mark  what  in  my  lay  seemed  pleasing  to  him  then. 


12  TWASINTA  S     SEMINOLES 

III. 

O !  shade  of  our  departed  Sire  of  song ! 

If  what  to  us  is  dim  be  clear  to  thee, 

Hear  while  my  yet  rude  numbers  flow  along ! 

If  spirit  may  a  mortal's  teacher  be, 

Stand  thou  near  by  and  guidance  offer  me ! 

That,  like  thy  verses,  clear  as  summer  blue,  — 

Bright  mirrors  of  the  peaceful  and  the  free, 

Reflecting  e'er  the  good,  the  great  and  true,  — 

So  mine  may  be,  and  /  my  pleasing  task  pursue. 

IV. 

Say,  then,  of  that  too  soon  forgotten  race 
That  flourished  once,  but  long  has  been  obscure 
In  Florida,  and  where  the  seas  embrace 
The  Spanish  isles ;  say  if  e'er  lives  more  pure 
Warmed  veins,  or  patriots  could  more  endure 
Around  the  altars  of  their  native  bourne ! 
Say,  when  their  flow'ry  landscapes  could  allure, 
What  peaceful  seasons  did  to  them  return, 
And  how  requited  labor  filled  his  golden  urn ! 

V. 

How  sweet  their  little  fields  of  golden  corn ! 

How  pleasure  smiled  o'er  all  the  varying  scene ! 

How,  'mid  her  dewy  murmurs  dreamt  the  morn, 

As  Summer  lingered  in  the  deep  serene ! 

How  nibbling  flocks  spread  on  the  hillsides  green, 

And  cattle  herded  in  the  vales  below; 

And  how  wild  meadows  stretched  in  bloom-sweet  sheen, 

Beneath  unconquered  shades,  where  lovers  go 

When  comes  the  evening  star  above  the  dark  to  glow ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  13 

VI. 

In  this  delightful  valley  of  the  isle, 

Where  dwelt  the  proud  Maroon,  were  not  deeds  done 

Which  roused  the  Seminole  and  fierce  exile 

To  more  than  savage  daring  ?     Here  begun 

The  valiant  struggles  of  a  forest  son ; 

And  tho'  by  wrong's  leagued  numbers  overborne, 

His  deeds  of  love  and  valor  for  him  won 

The  envied  wreath  by  heroes  only  worn,  [torn  ! 

And  which  from  manhood's  brow  oppression  ne'er  hath 


I. 

The  negro  slave  by  Swanee  river  sang ; 

Well-pleased  he  listened  to  his  echoes  ringing ; 

For  in  his  heart  a  secret  comfort  sprang, 

When  Nature  seemed  to  join  his  mournful  singing. 

To  mem'ry's  cherished  objects  fondly  clinging; 

His  bosom  felt  the  sunset's  patient  glow, 

And  spirit  whispers  into  weird  life  springing, 

Allured  to  worlds  he  trusted  yet  to  know, 

And  lightened  for  awhile  life's  burdens  here  below. 

II. 

The  drowsy  dawn  from  many  a  low-built  shed, 

Beheld  his  kindred  driven  to  their  task ; 

Late  evening  saw  them  turn  with  weary  tread 

And  painful  faces  back ;  and  dost  thou  ask 

How  sang  these  bondmen  ?  how  their  suff 'rings  mask  ? 

Song  is  the  soul  of  sympathy  divine, 

And  hath  an  inner  ray  where  hope  may  bask ; 

Song  turns  the  poorest  waters  into  wine, 

Illumines  exile  hearts  and  makes  their  faces  shine. 


i4  TWASINTA'S    SEMINOLES 

III. 

The  negro  slave  by  Swanee  river  sang, 

There,  soon,  the  human  hunter  rode  along ; 

And  eagerly  behind  him  came  a  gang 

Of  hounds  and  men,  —  the  bondman  hushed  his  song  — 

Around  him  came  a  silent,  list'ning  throng; 

"  Some  runaway  !  "  he  muttered ;  said  no  more, 

But  sank  from  view  the  growing  corn  among ; 

And  though  deep  pangs  his  wounded  spirit  bore, 

He  hushed  his  soul,  and  went  on  singing  as  before. 

IV. 

So  fared  the  land  where  slaves  were  groaning  yet  — 

Where  beauty's  eyes  must  feed  the  lusts  of  men ! 

'Tis  as  when  horrid  dreams  we  half  forget, 

Would  then  relate,  and  still  relate  again  — 

Ah  !  cold  abhorrence  hesitates  my  pen  ! 

The  heavens  were  sad,  and  hearts  of  men  were  faint ; 

Philanthropy  implored  and  wept,  but  then 

The  wrong,  unblushing,  trampled  on  Restraint, 

While  feeble  Law  sat  by  and  uttered  no  complaint. 

V. 

"  Fly  and  be  free  ! "     A  whisper  comes  from  heaven, 

"  Thy  cries  are  heard  !  "  the  bondman's  up  and  gone  ! 

To  grasp  the  dearest  boon  to  mortals  given, 

He  frantic  flies,  unaided  and  alone. 

To  him  the  red  man's  dwellings  are  unknown ; 

But  he  can  crave  the  freedom  of  his  race, 

Can  find  his  harvests  in  the  desert  sown, 

And  in  the  cypress  forest's  dark  embrace 

A  pathway  to  his  habitations  safely  trace. 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  15 

VI. 

The  sable  slave,  from  Georgia's  utmost  bounds, 
Escapes  for  life  into  the  Great  Wahoo. 
Here  he  has  left  afar  the  savage  hounds 
And  human  hunters  that  did  late  pursue ; 
There  in  the  hommock  darkly  hid  from  view, 
His  wretched  limbs  are  stretched  awhile  to  rest, 
Till  some  kind  Seminole  shall  guide  him  thro* 
To  where  by  hound  nor  hunter  more  distrest, 
He,  in  a  flow'ry  home,  shall  be  the  red  man's  guest. 

VII. 

If  tilled  profusion  does  not  crown  the  view, 

Nor  wide-ranged  farms  begirt  with  fences  spread ; 

The  cultivated  plot  is  well  to  do ; 

And  where  no  slave  his  groaning  life  has  led, 

The  songs  of  plenty  fill  the  lowliest  shed. 

Who  could  wish  more,  when  Nature,  always  green, 

Brings  forth  fruit-bearing  woods  and  fields  of  bread  ? 

Wish  more, where  cheerful  valleys  bloom  between,  [been? 

And  herds  browse  on  the  hills,  where  winter  ne'er  has 

VIII. 

Shall  high-domed  mosque  or  steepled  cathedral, 

Alone,  to  man  his  native  land  endear  ? 

Shall  pride's  palatial  pomp  and  ease  withal, 

The  only  shrines  of  patriotism  rear  ? 

Oh !  who  can  limit  adoration's  sphere, 

Or  check  the  inspiring  currents  of  the  soul  ?  — 

Who  hush  the  whispers  of  the  vernal  year, 

Or  press  the  sons  of  freedom  from  their  goal  ? 

Or  who  from  Nature  wrest  the  mystery  of  control !  * 


16  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

IX. 

Plebian,  Savage,  Sage,  or  lord  or  fiend, 
Man  hath  of  justice  and  of  right  a  cause. 
Prior  to  all  that  e'er  has  contravened, 
Or  e'en  to  man's  existence,  justice  was. 
Right  would  be  right  amid  the  wreck  of  laws : 
'Tis  so,  and  all  ordaining  Nature  gives 
Somewhere  to  live,  to  every  child  she  has ; 
She  gives,  and  to  her  bosom  each  receives, 
Inducing  it  to  love  the  spot  whereon  it  lives. 

X. 

Fair  Florida  !  whose  scenes  could  so  enhance  — 

Could  in  the  sweetness  of  the  earth  excel ! 

Wast  thou  the  Seminole's  inheritance  ? 

Yea,  it  was  thee  he  loved,  and  loved  so  well ! 

'Twas  'neath  thy  palms  and  pines  he  strove  to  dwell. 

Not  savage,  but  resentful  to  the  knife, 

For  thee  he  sternly  struggled  —  sternly  fell  ! 

Thoughtful  and  brave,  in  long  uneven  strife, 

He  held  the  verge  of  manhood  mid  dark  hights  of  life. 

XL 

A  wild-born  pride  endeared  him  to  thy  soil ! 

Where  roamed  his  herds  without  a  keeper's  care  — 

Where  man  knew  not  the  pangs  of  slavish  toil ! 

And  where  thou  didst  not  blooming  pleasures  spare, 

But  well  allotted  each  an  ample  share, 

He  loved  to  dwell:  Oh  !  isn't  the  goal  of  life 

Where  man  has  plenty  and  to  man  is  fair  ? 

When  free  from  avarice's  pinch  and  strife, 

Is  earth  not  like  the  Eden-home  of  man  and  wife? 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  I/ 

XII. 

If  earth  were  freed  from  those  who  buy  and  sell, 

It  soon  were  free  from  most,  or  all  its  ills ; 

For  that  which  makes  it,  most  of  all,  a  hell, 

Is  what  the  stingy  of  purse  of  Fortune  fills  : 

The  man  who  blesses  and  the  man  who  kills, 

Oft  have  a  kindred  purpose  after  all,  — 

A  purpose  that  will  ring  in  Mammon's  tills  ; 

And  that  has  ne'er  unheeded  made  a  call, 

Since  Eve  and  Adam  trod  the  thistles  of  their  Fall. 

XIII. 

What  meant  the  actions  of  the  great  and  good  — 
The  Christ  and  His  Apostles  —  holy  men  ! 
Why  wandered  they  about  in  solitude, 
Despising  what  the  world  called  greatness  then  ? 
Why  shun  the  num'rous  city's  places,  when 
Eternal  themes  their  warning  tongues  inspired  — 
Why,  but  to  reach  Edenic  source  again 
In  nature  ?     Why,  if  not  that  they  aspired 
To  tarry,  till  seraphic  touch  and  flame  had  fired 

XIV. 

Their  hearts  to  work  man's  restoration  ?     This, 

This  is  the  voice  of  Time  unfolding  truth  ! 

Oh  !  does  not  Nature  teach  us  primal  bliss  ? 

Who  has  not  felt  her  lessons  in  his  youth  ? 

And  having  felt,  who  can  forget  forsooth  ! 

The  voice  of  birds,  the  toil  and  hum  of  bees, 

And  air  all  filled  with  sounds,  sweet  or  uncouth, 

Dark  hights,  majestic  woods  and  rolling  seas 

Have  been  my  teachers,  and  my  teachers  still  be  these  ! 


1 8  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XV. 

Have  I  not  seen  the  hills  of  Candahar 

Clothed  in  the  fury  of  a  thunder  storm, 

When  Majesty  rolled  in  His  cloud-dark  car  — 

Wreathed  His  dread  brow  with  lightning's  livid  form, 

And  with  a  deluge  robed  His  threat'ning  arm  ! 

Not  seen,  when  night  fled  His  terrific  feet, 

The  great  deep  rose  to  utter  forth  alarm, 

The  hills  in  dreadful  hurry  rushed  to  meet,  [seat ! 

And  rocking  mountains  started   from  their  darkened 

XVI. 

In  happy  childhood  I  have  even  loved 

To  sport  the  wild,  and  in  the  front  and  face 

Of  dreadest  Nature,  watch  the  storm  unmoved, 

That  tore  the  oak  tree  from  its  ancient  place 

And  took  the  hilltops  in  its  dark  embrace ; 

And  then  I've  loved  the  pleasing  after-view  — 

The  quiet  valleys  spanned  with  light  and  grace  — 

The  watery  field,  replete  with  life  anew, 

And  sunset  robing  earth  in  love's  sublimest  hue. 

XVII. 

Thus,  when  afar  the  wide  Bahamas  shone,  — 
In  lucent  stillness  gleamed  the  sunset  sea  — 
When  day's  last  rim  sank  like  a  molten  zone, 
Emblaz'ning  in  Omnific  heraldry 
The  far-off  crag  and  latest  mountain  tree  ; 
Thus,  on  a  stand  dividing  worlds  I've  stood, 
Till,  touched  by  the  dark  wand  of  mystery, 
I  felt  the  brow  of  night,  and  earth  imbued 
With  dread  emotions  of  a  great  eternal  Good 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  IQ 

XVIII. 

Upon  the  shells  by  Carribea's  wave 

I've  heard  the  anthems  of  the  mighty  sea  ; 

Heard  there  the  dark  pines  that  their  voices  gave, 

And  heard  a  stream  denote  its  minstrelsy  — 

How  sweet,  all  lonely,  was  it  there  to  be ! 

The  stars  were  bright,  the  moon  was  up  and  clear ; 

But,  when  I  thought  of  those  who  once  were  free, 

And  came  at  wonted  times  to  worship  there ; 

The  sea's  deep  voice  grew  sad  and  claimed  of  me  a  tear ! 

XIX. 

Oh  !  sing  it  in  the  light  of  freedom's  morn, 
Tho'  tyrant  wars  have  made  the  earth  a  grave ; 
The  good,  the  great,  and  true,  are,  if  so,  born, 
And  so  with  slaves,  chains  do  not  make  the  slave  ! 
If  high-souled  birth  be  what  the  mother  gave, — 
If  manly  birth,  and  manly  to  the  core,  — 
Whate'er  the  test,  the  man  will  he  behave ! 
Crush  him  to  earth  and  crush  him  o'er  and  o'er, 
A  man  he'll  rise  at  last  and  meet  you  as  before. 

XX. 

So  with  our  young  Atlassa,  hero-born,  — 

Free  as  the  air  within  his  palmy  shade, 

The  nobler  traits  that  do  the  man  adorn, 

In  him  were  native :  Not  the  music  made 

In  Tampa's  forests  or  the  everglade 

Was  fitter,  than  in  this  young  Seminole 

Was  the  proi^d  spirit  which  did  life  pervade, 

And  glow  and  tremble  in  his  ardent  soul  — 

Which,  lit  his  inmost-self,  and  spurned  all  mean  control. 


2O  TWASINTA  S     SEMINOLES 

XXL 

Than  him  none  followed  chase  with  nimbler  feet, 

None  readier  in  the  forest  council  rose  ; 

To  speak  for  war,  e'er  sober  and  discreet, 

In  battle  stern,  but  kind  to  fallen  foes. 

He  led  the  charge,  but  halted, — slow  to  close 

The  vexed  retreat :  In  front  of  battle  he, 

Handsome  and  wild  his  proud  form  would  expose ; 

But  in  the  cheering  van  of  victory, 

Gentle  and  brave  he  was  the  real  chief  to  see. 

XXII. 

Lo  !  mid  a  thousand  warriors  where  he  stands, 

Pride  of  all  hearts  and  idol  of  his  race  ! 

Look  how  the  chieftains  of  his  war-tried  bands 

Kindle  their  courage  in  his  valiant  face  ! 

And  as  his  lips  in  council  open,  trace 

How  deep  suspense  her  earnest  furrows  makes 

On  ev'ry  brow  !  How  rings  the  forest-place 

With  sounding  cheers  !  when  native  valor  wakes 

His  dark  intrepid  eyes,  and  he  their  standard  takes ! 

XXIII. 

Proud  spirit  of  the  hommock-bounded  home 

Well  wast  thy  valor  like  a  buckler  worn ! 

And  when  the  light  of  other  times  shall  come,  — 

When  history's  muse  shall  venture  to  adorn 

The  brow  of  all  her  children  hero-born,  — 

When  the  bold  truth  to  man  alike  assigns 

The  place  he  merits,  of  no  honor  shorn  ; 

The  wreath  shall  be,  that  thy  brave  front  entwines, 

As  green  as  Mickasukie's  everlasting  pines ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  21 

XXIV. 

Well  bled  thy  warriors  at  their  leader's  side  ! 

Well  stood  they  the  oppressor's  wasting  fire  ; 

For  years  sweep  on,  and  in  their  noiseless  tide, 

Bear  down  the  mem'ries  of  the  past !     The  dire 

And  gloomful  works  of  tyrants  shall  expire, 

Till  naught  survives,  save  truth's  great  victories  ; 

Then  shall  the  voyager  on  his  way  aspire 

To  ponder  what  vast  wrecks  of  time  he  sees, 

And  on  Fame's  temple  columns  read  their  memories ! 

XXV. 

Not  so  with  Osceola,  thy  dark  mate  ; 
The  hidden  terror  of  the  honimock,  he 
Sat  gloomily  and  nursed  a  bitter  hate,  — 
The  white  man  was  his  common  enemy  — 
He  rubbed  the  burning  wounds  of  injury, 
And  plotted  in  his  dreadful  silent  gloom  ; 
As  dangerous  as  a  rock  beneath  the  sea. 
And  when  in  fray  he  showed  his  fearless  plume, 
Revenge  made  sweet  the  blows   that   dealt  the  white 
man's  doom. 

XXVI. 

The  pent-up  wrath  that  rankled  in  his  breast, 
O'er  smould'ring  embers  shot  a  lurid  glare, 
And  wrongs  that  time  itself  had  not  redrest, 
In  ghost-like  silence  stalked  and  glimmered  there. 
And  from  the  wizzard  caverns  of  despair, 
Came  voice  and  groan,  reminding  o'er  and  o'er 
The  outrage  on  his  wife  so  young  and  fair ; 
And  so,  by  heaven  and  earth  and  hell  he  swore 
To  treat  in  council  with  the  white  man  never  more. 


22  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XXVII. 

Such  were  the  chiefs  who  led  their  daring  braves 

In  many  a  battle  nobly  lost  or  won, 

And  consecrated  Mickasukie's  graves 

To  that  sweet  province  of  the  summer  sun  ! 

And  still  shall  history  forgetful  run  ? 

Shall  legend  too  be  mute  ?  then  Poesy, 

Divinest  chronicler  of  deeds  well  done, 

From  thy  blest  shrine  and  annals  of  the  free, 

Sing  forth  thy  praise  and  man  shall  hear  attentively 

XXVIII. 

The  poorest  negro  coming  to  their  shore, 

To  them  was  brother  —  their  own  flesh  and  blood, — 

They  sought  his  wretched  manhood  to  restore,  — • 

They  found  his  hidings  in  the  swampy  wood, 

And  brought  him  forth  —  in  arms  before  him  stood,  — 

The  citizens  of  God  and  sovran  earth,  — 

They  shot  straight  forward  looks  with  flame  imbued, 

Till  in  him  manhood  sprang,  a  noble  birth, 

And  warrior-armed  he  rose  to  all  that  manhood's  worth. 

XXIX. 

On  the  dark  front  of  battle  often  seen, 

Or  holding  dang'rous  posts  through  dreadful  hours,  — 

In  ranks  obedient,  in  command  serene, 

His  comrades  learn  to  note  the  tested  powers 

Which  prove  that  valor  is  not  always  ours, 

Be  whomsoever  we  :  A  common  race 

Soon  from  this  union  flows  —  soon  rarest  flowers 

Bloom  out  and  smile  in  beauty's  blending  grace, 

And  rivals  they  become  for  love's  sublimest  place. 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  2$ 

XXX. 

The  native  warrior  leads  his  ebon  maid, 

The  dark  young  brave  his  bloom-hued  lover  wins  ; 

And  where  soft  spruce  and  willows  mingle  shade, 

Young  life  mid  sunniest  hours  its  course  begins: 

All  Nature  pours  its  never-ending  dins 

In  groves  of  rare-hued  leaf  without'n  end,  — - 

'Tis  as  if  Time,  forgetting  Eden's  sins, 

Relents,  and  spirit  visitors  descend 

In  love's  remembered  tokens,  earth  once  more  to  blend. 

XXXI. 

The  sleepy  mosses  wave  within  the  sun, 

And  on  the  dark  elms  climbs  the  mistletoe ; 

Great  tangled  vines  through  pendant  branches  run, 

And  hang  their  purple  clusters  far  below  ; 

The  old  pines  wave  their  summits  to  and  fro, 

And  dancing  to  the  earth,  impatient  light 

Touches  the  languid  scene,  to  quickly  go, 

Like  some  gay  spirit  in  its  sunny  plight, 

That,  visiting  the  earth,  did  glance  and  take  its  flight. 

XXXII. 

Here  lapped  in  Sylvia's  all-composing  shade, 

Reposed  a  lake  beneath  the  thick-wood  hill 

Whose  shady  base,  by  night  and  day  was  made 

The  scene  of  trystings  :  Pining  there  until 

The  shadow  crept  upon  the  midnight  sill, 

The  love-sick  youth  spoke  vows  unto  the  moon ; 

And  pond'ring  by  the  waters  lone  and  still, 

The  old  man  conned  his  lifetime's  Afternoon, 

And  turned  the  pleasing  view,  "  I  shall  be  going  soon. 


24  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XXXIII. 

"  Come  now,  my  love,  the  moon  is  on  the  lake  ; 

Upon  the  waters  is  my  light  canoe  ; 

Come  with  me,  love,  and  gladsome  oars  shall  make 

A  music  on  the  parting  wave  for  you,  — 

Come  o'er  the  waters  deep  and  dark  and  blue  ; 

Come  where  the  lilies  in  the  marge  have  sprung, 

Come  with  me,  love,  for  Oh,  my  love  is  true !  " 

This  is  the  song  that  on  the  lake  was  sung, 

The  boatman  sang  it  over  when  his  heart  was  young. 

XXXIV. 

The  boatman's  song  is  hushed ;  the  night  is  still, 

Still  as  the  vault  of  heaven,  —  a  plashy  oar 

Starts  from  the  shadows  by  the  darkling  hill, 

And  softly  dips  towards  the  farther  shore ; 

Now  stops,  now  dips  again  —  is  heard  no  more. 

But  follow  the  nook  by  yonder  tree,  — 

Where  spouts  a  tiny  stream  with  fretish  roar, 

His  light  canoe  is  riding  noiselessly  — 

A  Chieftain's  light  canoe,  in  which  his  maid  you  see. 

XXXV. 

Ah !  how  her  wild  dark  wealth  of  tresses  spread 

Below  the  arm  that  round  her  partly  lies  ! 

And  as  she  leans  her  half  reluctant  head, 

See  how  intense  the  glances  that  she  tries ! 

Her  very  soul  is  mounting  to  her  eyes 

Lit  with  the  fires  of  her  proud  ancestry ; 

And  as  her  chieftain  hears  her  faint  replies, 

How  his  high  spirit  doth  adore  to  see 

His  princess-child,  the  bright  star  of  his  destiny ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA. 

XXXVI. 

"A  maid  from  islands  in  a  far,  far  sea, 

Came  to  our  shores,  upon  a  day,  a  day ; 

A  beauty  fair,  a  beauty  fair  was  she, 

And  took  our  young  Chief's  heart  away,  away; 

Tho'  all  the  world  could  not  we  heard  him  say. 

And  oh !  we  love  our  chieftain  and  his  maid, 

And  so  will  we,  and  so  will  we  for  aye !  " 

This  was  the  night-song  on  the  lake  delayed,  — 

The  boatman  sang  it  over  in  the  willows'  shade. 

XXXVII. 

The  scout  at  eve  to  Mickasukie  came ; 

The  stories  of  Twasinta  were  his  boast,  — 

A  stately  chief,  Palmecho  was  his  name, 

Had  numerous  herds  and  fields,  and  had  a  host 

Of  servants  in  the  vale  from  Tampa's  coast. 

A  proud  descendant  of  a  House  of  Spain, 

Distinguished  as  a  patron,  gen'rous  most, 

Whoever  sought  his  roof,  sought  not  in  vain, 

And  he  who  tarried  once,  must  shelter  there  again. 

XXXVIII. 

What  if  his  child,  of  Maroon  mother  born, 

Were  not  so  white  as  fancy's  marble  art? 

What  if  Care's  tedious  skill  did  not  adorn  ?  — 

A  native  air  did  nobler  charms  impart; 

For  beauty  blossomed  wildly  in  her  heart : 

The  rosebud's  youngest  tinge  was  in  her  cheek, 

And  her  dark  restless  eyes  could  dance  and  start 

As  if  the  sparkling  sense  were  wont  to  speak, 

And  hurl  the  insult  back  that  woman's  heart  is  weak. 


26  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XXXIX. 

Lo  !  where  yon  age-browned  mansion  meets  the  eyes  ! 

The  brook  below  it  winds  how  placidly ! 

A  house  of  proud  ancestral  families, 

How  venerable  is  its  history ! 

Whilom  here  met  the  sons  of  liberty ; 

The  counsel  and  the  courage  of  a  time 

When  civilization,  crossing  o'er  the  sea, 

Courted  the  perils  of  an  unknown  clime,          [sublime. 

And  reared  the  Cross  of  Spain  to  mark  conquests 

XL. 

But  of  thy  conquests,  what  remains  for  thee, 

Except  our  sighs,  thou  proud  but  feeble  Spain  ! 

Thy  flow'r  and  pride,  Lisboa's  chivalry, 

Could  not  on  these  wild  shores  prolong  thy  reign. 

For  man  waxed  mighty  and  his  God  was  Gain. 

What  if  thy  ancient  mounts  are  castle-crowned  ? 

What  if  thy  vales  do  open  to  the  main, 

With  cloisters  in  the  distance  time-embrowned  ? 

These  are  but  glimmerings  of  what  was  once  renowned. 

XLI. 

Was  not  thy  standard  on  these  shores  unfurled  ?  — 
Dominions  named  for  thy  "  most  Christian  Queen  " 
The  smile-provoking  jest  of  a  New  World, 
Whose  sons  in  battle  had  victorious  been, 
O'er  English  vet'rans,  who  had  service  seen  ? 
Yea,  when  the  luchre-loving  Saxon  grew 
And  fattened  on  the  blood  of  slaves,  I  ween 
Not  much  remained  for  errant  hands  to  do, 
Except  to  seize  and  hold  the  weak  in  bondage  too  ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  2/ 

XLII. 

But  Saragossa's  flash  o'er  war's  red  field, 

That  nerved  thy  sons  in  havoc's  revelry, 

Held  in  young  Ewald's  softer  glance  concealed, 

The  dark  springs  of  Astrusian  chivalry,  — 

The  lash-hid  fires  of  valor's  destiny  — 

Such  eyes,  the  raging  battle  could  not  tame  : 

Yet  they  could  shed  the  sweet  light  of  a  plea ; 

Enkindling  in  love's  soft  consenting  flame, 

A  pride  that  nobly  linked  with  beauty's  charming  name. 

XLIII. 

But  we  return ;     By  Carribea's  shore 

And  Tampa  far,  the  Maroon's  race  is  run  ! 

Gone  are  his  children  ;  him  they  call  no  more  ! 

No  more  they  gather  in  the  setting  sun 

To  join  their  pastimes,  after  toil  is  done  ! 

Pathetic  silence  covers  with  a  pall 

The  scene  which  all  the  living  seem  to  shun, 

And  something  seems  to  whisper,  after  all : 

"  And,  ah  !  did  such  and  such  Twasinta's  homes  befall !" 

XLIV. 

Here  many  an  exile  found  his  long  sought  rest, 
And  built  his  cot  in  woods  afar,  or  lane. 
Warm  were  his  greetings  for  the  weary  guest, 
Who  wandered  thither  from  the  distant  main. 
And  those  who  came  were  pressed  to  come  again. 
And  for  what  news  he  gathered  by  the  way, 
Of  frontier  happens,  or  of  maid  and  swain 
On  foreign  shores,  —  prolonged  from  day  to  day, 
The  total  stranger  might  at  will  extend  his  stay. 


28  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XLV. 

Here  erst  came  exiles  from  their  little  farms, 
To  greet  Palmecho  and  some  honored  guest ; 
Then  ranged  in  rows,  they  sat  with  folded  arms, 
And  heaven  with  rude,  but  fervent  songs  addrest : 
A  nameless  longing  kindled  in  each  breast, 
Gave  soul  to  song,  and  as  their  voices  rose, 
And  rolled,  and  echoed,  dying  in  the  West, 
It  seemed  as  if  the  dark  hills  did  enclose 
Unearthly  choirs  that  chanted  Nature  to  repose. 

XLVI. 

But  where  are  they?     Their  voices  are  no  more, 

Where  is  the  proud  Palmecho?     Where  his  child? 

Ah !  shall  we  seek  them  on  a  foreign  shore, 

Or  follow  where  they  wander  in  the  wild  ? 

Oh  God !  and  hath  our  garments  been  defiled 

With  their  shed  blood ;  or  what  the  frost  and  blight 

That  withered  life  where  erst  so  sweet  it  smiled  ? 

Let  time's  unerring  finger  point  aright, 

If  Babylon  be  doomed,  the  truth  should  see  the  light. 

XLVII. 

Pass  by  their  dwellings!  they  are  desolate  ! 

The  dog  has  wandered  there  and  howled  and  gone ! 

Rank  weeds  are  growing  over  the  broken  gate, 

And  silence  holds  her  dismal  reign  alone. 

Ah !  see  what  devastation  there  has  done  ! 

How  o'er  the  scene  a  mournful  spirit  falls ! 

Here  where  a  cheerful  hearth  whilom  hast  shone, 

The  dim  mole  burrows  —  sunken  lean  the  walls, 

And  wizard  voices  whisper  in  the  naked  halls  ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  29 

XLVIII. 

Thus  have  we,  Mickasukie,  seen  thy  brave, 

And,  too,  Twasinta,  seen  thy  homes  decline  ! 

Thus  have  we  found  how  yearns  the  poorest  slave 

For  freedom  —  how  at  patriotism's  shrine, 

The  ardor  of  the  exile  is  divine  ; 

And  now,  that  in  the  tide  of  years  o'erflown, 

There's  scarcely  left  a  trace  of  thee  and  thine, 

We  pause  and  sigh,  mid  wrecks  that  time  hath  strewn ; 

Of  all  the  world  has  been  how  little  now  is  known  !, 

XLIX. 

The  plowman's  furrow  marks  the  crumbling  field, 
Where  all  unnoticed,  war's  rude  weapons  spread ; 
While  neath  his  heedless  step  may  lie  concealed, 
The  strange  and  thrilling  annals  of  the  dead ! 
On  some  eventful  day  there  may  have  bled, 
Freemen  as  brave  as  Balaklava  knew  ; 
While  there  may  rest  some  glorious  leader's  head, 
Whose  matchless  valor  to  his  standard  drew       [threw. 
Brave    hosts,  who    round  their   homes   a  wall  of  battle 

L. 

Oh  !  would  the  muse  of  history  rend  the  veil, 

And  bring  her  hidden  instances  to  light; 

How  many  standards  of  the  proud  would  trail, 

As  thousands  all  unknown  would  rush  in  sight ! 

From  steepled  vale  and  celebrated  hight ! 

Wherever  civilization  spreads  her  name, 

Nations  that  perished  in  the  scourge  and  blight 

Of  wars  would  rise,  and  in  the  book  of  fame, 

Record  their  struggles  and  their  heroes'  deeds  proclaim. 


30  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

LI. 

Not  Albion's  will  nor  Scotia's  price  alone, 
Could  drum  and  slogan  till  the  air  should  shriek 
With  martial  praise,  —  nor  with  their  lips  of  stone, 
Could  Tyber's  Mistress  and  Illyrium  speak 
The  godlike  deeds  of  Roman  and  of  Greek ; 
Nay,  where  the  orange  blows  in  yellow  gold,  — 
Where  eve  is  thoughtful  and  the  morn  is  meek,  - 
Where  stood  the  quick-eyed  warrior  dark  and  bold, 
Applausing  earth  would  hear  the  deeds  of  glory  told. 

LII. 

Then  from  the  lips  of  unforgetting  time, 

To  hear  what  did  Twasinta's  homes  befall 

When  war-storms  overspread  that  peaceful  clime  — 

To  know  what  anguish  did  all  hearts  appall, 

When  separations  brought  death  after  all  — 

To  hear  how  love  can  mortal  dread  unmask,  — 

To  hear,  and  write  at  candor's  earnest  call, 

That  I  may  answer  if  mankind  shall  ask, 

In  truth  —  this  be  my  aim,  this  be  my  further  task. 


OR    RAPE   OF    FLORIDA.  3! 

CANTO  II. 
I. 

The  trump  of  fame  is  but  the  thunder's  tone 

Borne  off  forever,  dying  on  the  wind. 

The  glorious  summits  of  the  ages  gone, 

In  dim  remoteness  scarcely  lift  the  mind : 

The  mighty  deeds  that  thrilled  of  yore,  mankind, 

Are  now  forgotten  or  but  seldom  told ; 

Th*  unresting  spirit  e'er  the  new  must  find  — 

Old  lands,  old  tongues,  old  heav'ns  and  earths  —  all  old 

Things  pass  away,  as  time  displays  the  new  unrolled. 

II. 

What  is  there  now  of  gods  and  Mikadoos, 

And  dukes,  and  lords,  or  other  tilted  things, 

In  this  live  age  ?  —  this  busy  world  profuse 

With  evolution  ?  —  when  each  hour  there  springs 

New  truths,  and  new  sensations  mount  their  wings  ? 

Inherent  mention's  scarcely  worth  the  pains, 

The  world  cares  little  whose  grand  sires  were  kings ; 

I'd  rather  be  a  squatter  on  the  plains, 

And  know  that  I  possessed  industry,  pluck  and  brains. 

III. 

Greatness,  by  nature,  cannot  be  entailed ; 

It  is  an  office  ending  with  the  man,  — 

Sage,  hero,  Savior,  tho*  the  Sire  be  hailed, 

The  son  may  reach  obscurity  in  the  van  : 

Sublime  achievements  know  no  patent  plan, 

Man's  immortality's  a  book  with  seals, 

And  none  but  God  shall  open  —  none  else  can,  — 

But  opened,  it  the  mystery  reveals,  — 

Manhood's  conquest  of  man  to  heav'n's  respect  appeals. 


32  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

IV. 

Is  manhood  less  because  man's  face  is  black  ? 

Let  thunders  of  the  loosened  seals  reply  ! 

Who  shall  the  rider's  restive  steed  turn  back, 

Or  who  withstand  the  arrows  he  lets  fly, 

Between  the  mountains  of  eternity  ? 

Genius  ride  forth !  thou  gift  and  torch  of  heav'n  ! 

The  mastery  is  kindled  in  thine  eye ; 

To  conquest  ride  !  thy  bow  of  strength  is  giv'n  — 

The  trampled  hordes  of  caste  before  thee  shall  be  driv'n  ! 

V. 

Who  is't  would  beg  ?  What  man  permission  crave 

To  give  his  thoughts  their  scope  and  rightful  reign? 

Let  him  be  cursed !  a  self-manacled  slave  ! 

He's  a  polution  to  the  mind's  domain  — 

A  moral  garbage  scattered  on  the  plain  — 

An  execration  of  the  world  !  —  God's  arm 

Defend  not  him  !  Oh  !  if  there  is  disdain 

To  freeze  the  bosom's  every  impulse  warm, 

I  crave  it  for  all  who  to  Favor's  aim's  house  swarm. 

VI. 

Shall  thunders  ask  of  man  what  time  to  beat 
The  march  of  clouds  ?  Or  oceans  beg  his  leave 
To  rock  their  under- worlds  ?  In  his  dread  seat, 
Doth  Blanc  consider  him  ?     When  did  he  weave 
A  mantle  for  the  hurricane,  or  give 
The  Rockies  leave  to  hold  the  dying  Sun  !  — 
Sooner  all  these  —  sooner  an  earthquake  heave, 
And  sink  earth  back  where  broods  oblivion, 
Than  God-giv'n  mind  submit  for  gyves  to  be  put  on. 


OK    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  33 

VII. 

'T  is  hard  to  judge  if  hatred  of  one's  race, 

By  those  who  deem  themselves  superior-born, 

Be  worse  than  that  quiesence  in  disgrace, 

Which  only  merits  —  and  should- only  —  scorn  ! 

Oh  !  let  me  see  the  negro,  night  and  morn, 

Pressing  and  fighting  in,  for  place  and  power ! 

If  he  a  proud  escutcheon  would  adorn, 

All  earth  is  place  —  all  time  th'  auspicious  hour,  [cower  ? 

While  heaven  leans  forth  to  see,  oh  !  can  he  quail  or 

VIII. 

Ah  !  I  abhor  his  protest  and  complaint ! 
His  pious  looks  and  patience  I  despise ! 
He  can't  evade  the  test,  disguised  as  saint, 
The  manly  voice  of  freedom  bids  him  rise, 
And  shake  himself  before  Philistine  eyes ! 
And,  like  a  lion  roused,  no  sooner  than 
A  foe  dare  come,  play  all  his  energies, 
And  court  the  fray  with  fury  if  he  can ; 
For  hell  itself  respects  a  fearless  manly  man  ! 

IX. 

Negro,  or  Arab,  Zulu  if  one  choose, 

Unmoved  be  thou  reproached  for  all  but  fear ! 

By  the  unhindered  waters  learn  to  muse, 

With  nature's  liberal  voices  in  thy  ear ; 

Dwell  on  her  nobler  aspects  that  appear, 

And  make  companions  of  all  one  may  find : 

Go  rove  the  mountain  forests  far  and  near, 

And  hear  the  laughter  of  the  open  wind ; 

Then  ask,  what  earth  affords  like  freedom  of  the  mind  ! 


34  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

X. 

Be  thine  the  shoulders  that  may  bleed  —  not  wince, 

Tho'  insolence  in  power  lay  on  the  lash. 

Look  retribution  !  court  the  worst  nor  flinch, 

If  thou  must  meet !  —  upon  the  insult  gnash  I 

And  let  thy  kindled  courage  on  him  flash ; 

For  whom  he  can  not  conquer —  dare  not  kill  — 

In  suff'ring  dumb  —  in  manly  virtues  rash  — 

Must  with  respect  e'en  tyrant  bosoms  fill, 

So  godlike  is  the  man  who  is  invincible ! 

XI. 

I  never  was  a  slave  —  a  robber  took 

My  substance  —  what  of  that  ?     The  law  my  rights  — 

And  that  ?     I  still  was  free  and  had  my  book  — 

All  nature.     And  I  learned  from  during  hights 

How  silence  is  majestic,  and  invites 

In  admiration  far  beholding  eyes ! 

And  heaven  taught  me,  with  her  starry  nights, 

How  deepest  speech  unuttered  often  lies, 

And  that  Jehovah's  lessons  mostly  he  implies. 

XII. 

My  birth-place  where  the  scrub-wood  thicket  grows, 

My  mother  bound,  and  daily  toil  my  dower; 

I  envy  not  the  halo  title  throws 

Around  the  birth  of  any ;  place  and  power 

May  be  but  empty  phantoms  of  an  hour,  — 

For  me,  I  find  a  more  enduring  bliss : 

Rejoicing  fields,  green  woods  —  the  stream  —  the  flower, 

To  me  have  speech,  and  born  of  God,  are  his 

Interpreters,  proclaiming  what  true  greatness  is. 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  35 

XIII. 

Where'er  I  roam,  in  all  the  earth  abroad, 

I  find  this  written  in  the  human  chart : 

A  love  of  Nature  is  the  love  of  God, 

And  love  of  man  's  the  religion  of  the  heart. 

Man's  right  to  think,  in  his  majestic  part 

In  his  Creator's  works  —  to  others  bless  — 

This  is  the  point  whence  god-like  actions  start, 

And  open,  conscientious  manliness 

Is  the  divinest  image  mortals  can  possess. 

XIV. 

Almighty  fairness  smiling  heaven  portends, 

In  sympathy  the  elements  have  tears ; 

The  meekest  flow'rs  are  their  Creator's  friends, 

The  hungry  raven  He  in  patience  hears ; 

And  e'en  the  sparrow's  wishes  reach  His  ears ! 

But  when  He  treads  the  tyrant  in  His  wrath, 

And  to  crush  wrong  the  horn  of  battle  rears, 

The  pestilence  goes  forth  on  him  who  hath 

Transgressed,  and  empires  fall  imploring  in  His  path. 

XV. 

-A  god-like  man  is  fair  to  fellow-men, 
And  gentleness  is  native  in  his  soul ! 
He  sees  no  fault  in  man  till  forced,  and  then 
He  wonders  't  were  not  greater.     He  is  whole 
In  valor,  mercy,  love,  and  self-control. 
Virtue  is  his  religion  —  Liberty 
His  shrine  —  honest  contentment  is  his  goal 
And  sum  of  bliss,  and  his  life  aims  to  be 
In  nothing  excellent,  save  that  which  leaves  man  free. 


36  TWASINTA'S  SEMINOLES 

XVI. 

I  envy  not  the  man  whose  want  of  brains 

Supplies  a  roost  for  race-hate's  filthy  brood ! 

The  little  eminence  his  soul  attains 

Is  more  the  pity  when  'tis  understood, 

That  he,  perhaps,  has  done  the  best  he  could  ! 

Tread  not  upon  him  just  to  see  him  squirm  ! 

Pity,  forsooth!  to  crawl  is  his  best  good, 

And  'tis  his  nat'ral  way,  I  do  affirm ; 

So,  let  him  crawl  his  fill,  he  is  a  harmless  worm ! 

XVII. 

A  lovely  sunset  fills  the  evening  sky, 

On  glorified  peaks  the  cloud-rims  slowly  fade, 

Till  comes  the  darkened  east  on  quietly 

Extending  o'er  the  earth  a  solemn  shade ! 

All  things  are  silent,  save  the  whispers  made 

By  drowsy  pines  o'er  where  deep  solitude 

Rock,  cavern,  hill  and  valley  doth  pervade. 

Now  sinks  a  glimmering  spirit  in  the  wood, 

And  the  dark  brow  of  heav'n  with  myst'ry  is  imbued  ! 

XVIII. 

How  changed  the  hour !     How  sweet  to  be  alone 

In  meditations !     'Bove  thee  sweep  thy  sight 

O'er  the  unconscious  world,  a  baldic  zone 

Of  heavenly  sapphires  burns !     Behind  the  hight 

The  tranquil  moon  appears,  and  peerless  night 

Asserts  her  brilliant  reign  !     Oh  !  mystery, 

Interpreter  of  yon  far  mansions  bright, 

To  find  what  their  night-cogitations  be,  [thee  ! 

My  soul  would  mount  its  eager  way  and  dwell  with 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  37 

XIX. 

The  portals  of  Thine  upper  House,  O  God  ! 
Portend  a  kindred  of  their  worlds  to  me  ! 
O  !  how  the  coming  of  Thy  light  abroad, 
Doth  lift  my  soul  adoring  up  to  Thee ! 
And  is  it  not  benign  that  I  should  see  ? 
How  could  my  heart  in  disobedience  sink, 
While  round  me  rolls  infinite  harmony, 
And  thou  dost  woo  my  spirit  forth  to  think, 
And  wait  with  Thine  eternal  sons  upon  the  brink ! 

XX. 

Thou  awful  One!  Thy  willing  creature  hear! 

Help  Thou  my  soul  in  patience  here  to  wait ; 

And  how  soe'er  to  me  Thou  dost  appear, 

Lead  me  to  look  towards  Thine  upper  gate ! 

Thy  tender  goodness  is  to  me  so  great, 

And  Thou  so  near  me  hast  Thy  wonders  brought. 

Oh !  help  me  love  Thee  more  in  Thine  estate, 

And  love  my  fellow  mortal  as  I  ought ! 

Then  grant  that  I  come  to  Thine  upper  home  of  thought. 

XXI. 

When  we  behold  yon  citizens  of  heaven, 

Oh !  why  should  man  oppress  his  brother  here  ? 

How  sweet  to  think  a  Father's  love  hath  given 

To  man  the  task  to  beautify  this  sphere, 

And  dwell  in  peace  upon  it  everywhere ! 

The  noblest  hights  e'er  found  by  angels'  ken, 

The  grandest  vistas  that  to  them  appear, 

Make  not  celestial  joys  so  sweet  -as  when 

They  see  our  earth  a  heaven  —  a  brotherhood  of  men  ! 


38  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XXII. 

Love  in  the  forest,  —  this  is  is  now  our  theme  — 
Was  like  a  charming  spirit  in  the  wild 
Where  dwelt  Atlassa.     It  to  him  did  seem 
That  all  the  earth  with  tints  of  promise  smiled. 
And  since  he  met  Palmecho  and  his  child, 
The  waves  of  Mickasukie  sang  more  sweet. 
The  hoarse  old  pines  did  even  speak  more  mild, 
The  wild  flow'rs  brightened  in  their  mossy  seat ; 
And  Ewald's  whispers  lingered  in  the  wind's  retreat. 

XXIII. 

No  wonder  he  from  forests  sports  should  turn, 

No  wonder  that  he  learned  the  Spanish  tongue  — 

And  to  Twasinta  went  that  he  might  learn  : 

Nor  is  it  strange  that,  his  rude  tribes  among, 

The  useful  arts  soon  into  being  sprung. 

The  faithful  exile  in  his  fields  was  seen ; 

His  herds  were  watched  and  numbered  old  and  young  ; 

With  waving  corn  the  valleys  soon  were  green,    [been. 

And  pleasant  houses  reared  where  wigwams  erst  had 

XXIV. 

The  warrior's  blade  now  rusted  in  his  halls, 

The  incantations  of  the  seer  were  done  ; 

Free  hearts  arose  at  labor's  urgent  calls, 

And  strong  hands  had  their  cheerful  tasks  begun  : 

Soon  fields  of  plenty  rose  to  greet  the  sun. 

Instead  of  savage  revels,  now  the  feast 

Of  harvests  was  prolonged :  and  there  was  none 

So  proud  as  our  young  chief  that  wars  had  ceased,  — 

So  plain  is  love  the  proof  that  man  is  not  a  beast. 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  39 

XXV. 

The  faithful  exile,  always  giv'n  to  boast, 

In  deep'ning  converse  with  the  Seminole, 

Would  vow,  that,  "  in  all  Carolina's  coast  — 

All  Georgia  —  Alabama  —  all  the  whole 

Wide  world,  there  was  not  such  a  sunny  soul 

As  that  young  dark-eyed  angel  of  the  West !  " 

Then  thus  his  instances  would  he  unroll : 

"Just  see  her  feet,  her  hands,  her  timid  breast,  [rest!  " 

Her  mouth,  her  hair — but  oh!  her  dark  eyes  never 

XXVI. 

The  Seminole  would  nod  his  gruff  assent, 

And  long  and  stout  they  shook  each  other's  hands. 

The  "  queen  of  blossoms  "  was  the  name  that  went 

The  rounds  of  all  the  Mickasukie  bands. 

Ewald  was  princess  of  the  sunny  lands ; 

And  as  from  lip  to  lip  her  mention  ran, 

Atlassa's  inward  promise  to  his  hands, 

Was  valiant  deeds  and  glory  in  the  van,  — 

So  sure  does  love  inspire  the  manliness  of  man. 

XXVII. 

Ewald  the  idol  of  Tvvasinta's  shades,  — 

Palmecho's  pride  and  jewel  of  his  care, 

Well  loved  her  chieftain  of  the  everglades : 

The  matchless  watcher  of  the  forests  fair. 

As  free  as  pine-watched  Tampa's  breezy  air, 

The  head  and  boast  of  his  intrepid  race, 

His  brow  was  noble,  —  valor's  seat  was  there  — 

His  mien  was  princely  and  the  eye  could  trace 

The  warrior-soul  that  warmed  his  wildly  handsome  face. 


40  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XXVIII. 

Till  stars  were  out,  Ewald  stood  half  afraid  — 
Half  conscious  of  the  hour  —  nor  till  the  moon 
Was  in  the  misty  vale,  could  she  persuade 
Herself  that  her  young  chief  must  not  come  soon  : 
'Twas  when  the  whip-poor-will's  loud  wizard  tune 
Had  warned  her  from  the  brake,  that  she  could  leave; 
Turning  to  go,  —  then  pausing  to  commune 
With  shadowy  thoughts,  that  fancy's  touch  did  weave 
Into  a  spell-like  hope  that  she  might  him  receive. 

XXIX. 

And  now  she  heard  Twasinta's  watchdogs  bark 

At  many  a  drowsy  cotter's  distant  door, 

Baying  such  sounds  as  travel  after  dark, 

Leaving  the  after-stillness  stilly  more. 

Thus  are  we  warned  by  dogs,  some  say,  before 

Eventful  times,  —  whether  this  doth  reveal, 

Or  not,  some  mystery  in  canine  lore,  — 

The  dog's  unwonted  barking's  apt  to  steal 

O'er  us  at  night,  and  make  us  strange  misgivings  feel. 

XXX. 

The  very  air  uneasily  did  creep 

Among  the  maples  darkling  over-head  ; 

And  as  she  reached  her  gateway  on  the  steep, 

She  found  Palmecho,  prying  out,  who  said : 

"  There's  wrong  abroad,  my  Ewald,  something  dread 

Is  sure  to  happen ;  "  and  while  yet  he  spake 

A  hasty  footman  from  the  forests  sped  — 

It  was  an  exile,  who  his  way  did  make 

Straight  to  Palmecho,  some  alarming  news  to  break. 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  4! 

XXXI. 

As  Ewald  passed,  she  heard  Atlassa's  name. 
Wide  thro'  Twasinta  spread  the  hasty  news, 
Like  stubbles  crackling  in  a  wind-swept  flame. 
Ah  !  now  was  trouble's  sombre  currents  loose  ! 
With  muttered  threats  and  presages  profuse, 
The  young  men's  speeches  stirred  the  eager  crowd ; 
Whilst  old  men  thought  up  their  ancestral  views, 
And  triumphs,  that  well  made  the  warrior  proud  — 
But  all  for  action  were  unanimous  and  loud. 

XXXII. 

At  daybreak,  ere  a  flock  fresh  scatt'ring  browsed 
The  still  gray  slopes,  the  loud  echoing  horn, 
With  sudden  'larum,  all  Twasinta  roused ; 
And  quietude  was  in  her  bosom  torn ! 
How  dreadful  was  confusion  on  that  morn ! 
Soon  forth  from  early  field  and  drowsy  cot, 
Palmecho's  servants,  mutt'ring  wrath  or  scorn, 
O'er  fence  and  ditches  hurried  to  the  spot 
Whence  came  the  signals,  to  repel  a  dastard  plot ! 

XXXIII. 

Hoe,  axe  and  pick  were  clashing  on  the  air, 

Old  swords  and  muskets,  made  by  long  disuse 

And  ancient  rust  to  look  grim  things,  were  there ! 

Club,  scythe  and  rake  —  whatever  one  might  choose, 

In  one  commingling  torrent  now  were  loose ! 

It  was  a  ghastly  sea,  whose  surge  pressed  surge, 

All  ploughed  to  frothy  anger  by  abuse, 

That  now  did  roar !  and  on  the  sudden  verge 

Of  desperation  men  stood  nerved  the  worst  to  urge ! 


42  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XXXIV. 

Behind  them  were  their  homes,  wives,  children  —  all ! 

Forth  in  the  breach,  sons,  husbands,  fathers  stood 

To  meet  what  came  if  e'en  the  heav'ns  must  fall ! 

Thro'  unpolluted  fields  by  Waxe's  flood, 

O'er  meadows  sweet  and  in  the  palmy  wood, 

The  armor  of  the  foe  gleamed  in  the  sun : 

Proud  was  the  aged  maroon's  incensed  mood, 

As  forth  to  meet  them  in  a  feeble  run, 

He  waved  his  servants  back,  and  thus  his  speech  begun 

XXXV. 

"  What  troop  is  this  that  comes  to  mine  abode  ? 

What  seek  ye  here  ?     Intruders  !  will  ye  dare 

To  hoof  my  grounds?     Why  shun  yon  open  road? 

Age  quencheth  not  resentment!  and  beware, 

Whoe'er  ye  be,  or  whence  soe,er  ye  are, 

Ye  come  no  further!"     Rapid  gestures  told 

How  he  was  moved ;  but  without  heed  or  care, 

On  rode  the  soldiers  till  he  had  seized  hold 

One's  reins,  and  felt  a  sabre's  blow  that  laid  him  cold, 

XXXVI. 

The  mutt'ring  breaks  !  —  a  yell !  —  a  rush  !  —  a  rage  ! 
Tfce  servants  come  !  blades  clatter,  missiles  fly  ! 
The  trained  dragoons  in  battle-form  engage 
These  rude,  brave  fellows,  —  aim  with  deadly  eye  — 
Fall  back  in  line,  reload  and  deadlier  try 
Successive  aims  !  —  ah !  but  the  gods  inspire 
The  freeman  who  sees  freemen  by  him  die.!  — 
Each  soldier's  shot  but  builds  the  unconquered  fire, 
Twasinta's  sons  come  on  to  rescue  or  expire ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  43 

XXXVII. 

Around  their  prostrate  chieftain  they  contend, 

The  foe's  dread  volleys  can  not  hinder  more  ! 

In  strong  arms  seized,  their  bleeding  father-friend 

Is  borne  away,  as  from  the  mansion  door 

Flies  a  sweet  form,  in  frantic  fondness  o'er 

Her  sire  to  bend  !     But  hark  !  what  mean  the  cries 

That  startle  silent  Waxe's  utmost  shore  ? 

With  bated  breath  full  soon  each  dragoon  eyes 

His  rear,  faces  about,  puts  spurs,  and  headlong  flies. 

XXXVIII. 

Atlassa's  feerless  plume  was  now  in  sight, 

His  Seminoles  towards  Twasinta  cheered. 

Twasinta  answered  with  her  valiant  might. 

And  deaf'ning  shouts  did  greet  them  as  they  neared  ! 

Till  on  Palmecho's  threshold  they  appeared, 

The  tempest  of  rejoicings  held  its  sway ; 

Then  on  the  roof  the  flag  of  Spain  was  reared, 

And  Mickasukie's  braves  the  live-long  day, 

Were  thro'  Twasinta  led  in  many  a  festive  way. 

XXXIX. 

Did  bivouac  fires  e'er  shed  a  holier  light 

O'er  the  eternal  slumbers  of  the  slain, 

Tho'  kings  were  conquered,  than  was  seen  that  night, 

From  candles  burning  in  Twasinta's  plain  ? 

Or  where  the  hearth-fire  kindled  hope  again  ? 

Roll  the  loud  drum  !  and  fill  the  brazen  blast ! 

Heralds  report  the  laureled  victor's  train  !  — 

Let  royal  cups  to  valor's  lips  be  past, 

And  still  Twasinta's  sons  their  undimmed  glory  hast. 


44  TWASINTA  S     SEMINOLES 

XL. 

Of  how  Atlassa's  hours  that  night  went  by, 

As  he  with  Ewald  watched  his  aged  friend, 

There's  none  mote  ask,  for  none  mote  aim  to  pry 

In  sacred  things,  —  the  eye  would  e'en  offend 

If  it  should  touch  them !  —  angels  might  not  bend 

In  admiration,  or  they  must  desire 

A  mortal  hour  or  two  on  earth  to  spend : 

So  let  us  leave  the  mansion,  nor  aspire 

To  feast  a  curious  gaze  whence  angels  should  retire. 

XLI. 

Oh !  what  a  change  one  fleeting  hour  may  bring  ! 

What  grand  achievements  may  escape  the  hand, 

When  man  had  seemed  to  vanquish  everything ! 

Fate,  stern  Dictatress,  but  assumes  her  wand 

And  wizard  throne!  —  the  doomed  on  sea  and  land 

Doth  fall  by  her  irrevocable  thrust ! 

The  King  descends  to  beg  at  her  command, 

The  pride  of  empire  humbles  in  the  dust, 

And  all   hat  man  would  be  bows  down  to  what  he  must. 

XLII. 

She  waves  in  air,  —  unreefs  the  tempest's  shrouds  ! 

She  throws  a  spark,  —  red,  angry  flame  forth  flies 

And  climbs  the  palace  dome  into  the  clouds, 

To  melt  in  ruins  the  toil  of  centuries  ! 

Lo  !  where  yon  sea-watched  mountains  darkly  rise  ! 

She  thrusts  them  in  their  rock-seamed  armor  brown ; 

Volcano  leaps  to  the  night-glaring  skies, 

An  earthquake  drinks  the  crumbling  city  down, 

And  dashed  on  high  the  monster  wrecks  of  Ocean  frown 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  45 

XLIII. 

Vain  mortals  we  !  fond  worms !  how  slow  to  note  ! 

Man  is  but  man !     The  subjects  at  his  feet 

To-day  may  aim  to-morrow  at  his  throat. 

Before  whom  he,  in  open  battle  beat 

An  hour  ago,  this  hour  he  may  retreat  ; 

Or  on  his  armored  hight-invincible 

He  may  fall  by  the  cunning  of  deceit. 

From  first  to  last,  in  spite  of  human  will, 

Fate  ever  moves  unfoiled,  Dictatress  stern  and  still. 

XLIV. 

Fate  comes  at  last,  no  telling  where  nor  when ! 

The  flag  of  truce  from  San  Augustine's  gate, 

And  oily  speeches  of  designing  men, 

Reduced  Twasinta's  sons  in  their  estate  !  — 

Palmecho,  at  the  council  table  sate 

To  prove  by  word  what  they  in  arms  had  claimed, 

The  right  to  live  as  freemen,  small  and  great  — 

But,  be  it  said,  and     *****     dust  be  blamed ; 

This  land  should  blush  whene'er  a  flag  of  truce  is  named. 

XLV. 

Palmecho  spoke  of  wars,  and  rights,  and  lands, 

The  hardened  pirates     *****     at  their  head, 

Heard  with  deep  ire  the  brave  old  chief's  demands ! 

With  inborn  hate  they  gave  him  chains  instead, 

And  forth  to  seize  his  daughter  hotly  sped ; 

But  mounting  for  the  wilds,  her  valiant  steed 

Swept  where  the  whist'ling  cypress  darkly  spread, 

And  bore  from  sight  in  his  pursuers'  lead, 

Foanrng  the  scornful  boast,  that  Ewald  should  be  freed. 


46  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XLVI. 

'Tis  night,  the  gathering  storm  approaches  fast ; 

Dark  roll  the  low'ring  clouds  o'er  Tampa's  flood : 

Earth  groans  as  thunders  utter  forth  their  blast, 

And  light'nings  gleam  athwart  the  trembling  wood! 

'Tis  as  if  Terror,  calling  up  her  brood, 

Did  howl  to  hear  their  deep  responsive  howls ; 

Or  Darkness  from  her  nether  caverns  stood, 

To  horrify  with  most  unmortal  scowls 

And  glints  the  habitations  of  unhappy  souls ! 

XLVII. 

Ah !  such  a  night !     How  pallid  nature  reels 

And  shudders  in  the  face  of  what  forebodes ! 

And  flying  at  Destruction's  furious  wheels 

The  wrath  and  pennons  of  insatiate  gods 

Now  seem  to  rush  !     'Tis  still !     And  now  the  floods 

Of  heav'n  break  up  !     The  big  drops  spatt'ring  break 

Down !  down !  the  sluices  pour !     The  drenchy  roads 

Are  streams  of  sheety  flame !     The  pine  tops  quake 

And  howl  in  direful  hubbub  as  the  winds  awake ! 

XLVIII. 

Ah  !  such  a  night !     And  who  is  this  abroad  ? 

Lo !  Where  'mid  Tampa's  pines  she  darts  along ! 

Unreigned  her  fiery  courser  spurns  the  road, 

And  leaps  away  the  crashing  trees  among ! 

Oh !  can  Ewald,  so  innocent  and  young, 

Thus  like  a  spirit  of  the  storm  fly  on ! 

Ah !  but  the  heart  of  gentleness  is  strong 

When  woman  sallies  forth,  unhelped,  alone, 

With  but  one  star  of  hope,  and  that  one  almost  gone 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  47 

XLIX. 

To  where  a  hunter's  lodge  gleams  thro'  the  trees, 

She  turns  her  champing  steed  and  hails  outright ; 

A  warrior  answering  in  the  door  she  sees, — 

"  Who's  this  abroad  in  such  a  stormy  night?  " 

She  answers  not,  but  straightway  doth  alight, 

And  when  her  quick  eyes  and  Atlassa's  meet, 

He  stands  with  stark  amazement,  speechless  quite. 

"  'Tis  I,  Atlassa,"  now  with  accents  sweet,  [beat. 

The  trembling  Ewald  speaks,  as  swift  her  heart  doth 

L. 

They  enter,  and  the  chieftain  lowly  bows, — 

He  leads  Ewald  and  quickly  draws  a  seat ; 

His  warriors  sit  around  in  silent  rows, 

And  on  their  camp  skins  draw  away  their  feet, 

While  their  brave  eyes  in  secret  wonder  meet ; 

Till  thus  to  speak  began  their  lovely  guest ; 

They  knew  her  language  and  her  words  were  sweet  — 

"  Warriors,  I  come  to  you  with  what,  expressed, 

Will  cause  a  rankling  fire  to  burn  a  valiant  breast." 

LI. 

"At  San  Augustine  now  Palmecho  pines,  — 

They  chained  him  at  the  council  there  to-day ! 

The  dungeon's  gloom  his  aged  sight  confines, 

I  saw  the  arm'd  men  dragging  him  away ! 

1  Seize  now  his  child ! '  I  heard  a  grim  voice  say, 

And  but  for  my  brave  steed  that  bore  me  here, 

I  too  had  been  in  chains,  a  prisoner  —  nay, 

Had  been  the  mock  and  jests  of  wild  beasts,  where, 

To  bear  man's  wrongs  were  death,  and  tenfold  more 


48  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

LII. 

Where  glared  the  camp  fire,  now  Atlassa  rose,  — 
His  oft-tried  warriors  waited  his  command. 
A  downward  glance  on  these  he  sternly  throws,  — 
They  seize  their  arms  and  close  around  him  stand  ! 
Dangers  ne'er  bristled  round  a  braver  band ! 
Half  list'ning,  as  for  foes,  the  chief  begun, 
While  tenderly  he  held  young  Ewald's  hand : 
"  Witness,  ye  braves,  who  oft  have  battles  won,  — 
Speak  now  !  what  peril  did  Atlassa  ever  shun  ?  " 

LIII. 

"Witness,  ye  pines  on  Mickasukie's  shore! 

Witness,  ye  brakes  and  glens  of  Florida ! 

Did  ever  I  disgrace  the  soil  that  bore 

My  race,  by  coward's  act  ?     From  Tampa  Bay, 

Have  I  not  met  the  armed  foe  in  the  way, 

E'en  to  these  bounds?     Ye  Seminoles  once  brave  — 

Brave  ever!  witness  that  I  now  do  say: 

Let  not  my  country  owe  me  e'en  a  grave, 

If  Sire  Palmecho  pine  one  fortnight  more  a  slave !  " 

LIV. 

Ewald  now  from  her  neck  toss'd  tresses  wild, 

And  gazed  upon  her  chieftain's  valiant  face  — 

Hope  lit  the  spirit  of  the  woman-child ! 

While  with  the  native  courage  of  his  race, 

A  warrior  pluck'd  his  chief's  knife  from  its  place, 

And  waving  it  aloft,  stern-looking,  cried : 

"  Who  wears  this  blade  and  doth  the  task  embrace 

To  free  Palmecho,  weal  or  woe  betide, 

I'll  follow  where  he  goes  or  perish  at  his  side ! " 


OR    RAPE   OF    FLORIDA.  49 

LV. 

Loud  rang  the  shouts ;  the  storm  heard  and  the  night, 

The  Seminole,  the  dread  of  Tampa's  coast, 

Was  in  his  bosom  stirred  !  and  in  such  might, 

Not  Buena  Vistas'  hero,  Mexic's  boast, 

Nor  war-worn  Clinch's  mercenary  host 

Could  drive  him  back  :   "  She  is  our  native  star !  " 

They  cried  and  yelled,  for  who  should  yell  the  most ; 

"  Her  beauty  shines  on  us  from  Candahar, 

Lead  us  to  bring  Palmecho  to  his  home  afar ! " 

LVI. 

Atlassa  spoke :  "At  morn  bring  up  her  steed, 

And  lead  her  to  our  village  by  the  lake : 

The  haughty  foe  a  cougar's  cry  may  heed, 

And  cow'r  ere  yet  the  glinted  morn  shall  wake ! 

Loud !  loud  till  then,  and  dark,  thou  tempest,  break ! 

Rock  San  Augustine's  sentry  in  his  sleep 

Till  I  shall  come !  "     He  paused,  adieu  to  take, 

And  out  into  the  pitchy  woods  did  leap, 

While  at  his  heels  two  braves  their  stormy  way  did  keep. 

LVII. 

How  passing  strange  is  love !     His  airy  wing, 

Soft  as  gossamer,  may  rest  on  a  beam, 

Or  glow  in  summer  mists !     He  haunts  the  spring, 

Gay  in  the  ripplings  of  the  sunbright  stream  ! 

He  revels  daylong  in  a  rain  show'r's  dream, 

And  is  a  truant  'mid  the  lisping  leaves. 

On  languid  mosses  where  the  young  flow'rs  teem, 

A  garland  for  his  fairy  mate  he  weaves, 

And  hears  such  elfin  strains  as  no  dull  ear  receives. 


5o  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

LVIII. 

Ah  !  yet  how  strange  is  love  !     He  tunes  his  shell 

To  breathing  violets,  and  to  the  show'r, 

He  says  sweet  things  in  song;  his  whispers  dwell 

Upon  the  wind's  lips  —  he  smiles  in  each  flow'r, 

Laughs  in  the  joyous  rustle  of  the  bow'r, 

And  murmurs  where  the  breezeless  willows  pine ; 

He  chirrups  in  the  morning's  dew-fresh  hour, 

Deep  in  the  lulled  shade  flees  the  midday  shine, 

And  like  a  spell  pervades  the  evening's  gray  decline. 

LIX. 

How  passing  strange  !     He  climbs  the  awful  steep 

To  sit  upon  the  bald  old  eagle's  hight,  — 

Goes  down  for  treasures  in  the  corralled  deep  — 

Disputes  the  reign  of  tempest-brooding  night, 

Quenches  the  flames  of  war,  —  nor  famine's  blight, 

Nor  burning  Equinox,  nor  Arctic  cold, 

Can  stay  him  in  his  universal  might  ! 

Stranger  than  life,  a  gentle  prince  and  bold, 

In  lovely  woman's  eyes  his  palace  you  behold. 

LX. 

He  is  capricious,  often  seizing  hearts 

That  least  suspect  him,  and  as  often  he 

Doth  sport  with  trials — whence  his  sudden  starts, 

Hair  breadth  escapes,  and  bouts  in  which  to  be, 

Not  always  seems  most  wise  to  chastity. 

In  passionate  momentary  wanderings, 

Or  long  consistent  quiets,  ever  free,  — 

Sweet  welcome  spirit,  where  he  rests  his  wings, 

Divinest  charms  invest  the  commonest  of  things ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  5 1 

LXI. 

If  now  the  bright  sensation  of  an  hour, 

He  flits  from  scene  to  scene  in  gorgeous  hues, 

Soon  o'er  his  bloom-sweet  task  his  wings  will  low'r, 

And  he  with  busy  hopes  content,  will  choose 

To  taste  the  sweets  of  toil-inducing  dews ; 

And  fail  at  last,  or  blossom  with  success, 

His  task  is  sweet,  and  he  cannot  refuse. 

Thrice  blessed  himself,  his  mission  is  to  bless  — 

And  iron-visaged  fate  will  smile  in  his  caress. 

LXII. 

I  pity  him  who  ne'er  has  loved  a  woman, 
And  that  outright,  —  with  all  her  faults  thrown  in ; 
For  the  sole  reason  is,  that  he  is  no  man, 
And  wears  the  downcast  of  orig'nal  sin  ! 
Who  cannot  look  in  woman's  eyes,  and  win 
That  glimpse  of  heaven  that  Adam  erst  derived 
From  dwelling  near  enough  to  see  within  ? 
Love's  just  the  Eden  of  which  he's  deprived, 
Who  has  not  truly  loved,  has  never  truly  lived. 

LXIII. 

A  hunter's  lodge  in  Tampa's  woods  at  night,  — 
A  raging  storm  abroad  —  Palmecho  chained  — 
And  still  where  gleamed  the  hearth's  uncertain  light, 
Ewald  felt  something  in  her  heart  which*pained, 
Both  when  it  left  her  and  when  it  remained : 
Vacant  she  gazed,  forgetting  to  forget ; 
Thoughts  light  a^  failing  shadows  were  retained,  — 
She  shut  them  out  —  they  toyed  with  her  yet,  — 
Such  is  the  fate  of  those  who  toil  in  young  love's  net. 


52  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

LXIV. 

'Twas  true,  Atlassa's  fame  was  greatly  known, 
His  deeds  of  valor  thrilled  on  many  a  tongue  ; 
Palmecho  proudly  did  his  friendship  own ; 
He  knew  the  father  —  then  the  son  was  young  — 
He  too  was  mighty,  —  valiant  men  among  — 
Yes,  he  had  trained  his  only,  gifted  son, 
Whose  name  of  late  in  every  council  rung  ; 
She  thought  all  this,  and  now  again  begun 
Thinking  of  him  —  no  —  herself —  no,  not  any  one  ! 

LXV. 

A  father  held  in  chains !  She  thought  of  that, 

But  he  would  be  soon  rescued,  oh !  the  thought ! 

To  San  Augustine,  he  who  faltered  at 

No  mortal  peril,  soon  must  come  or  ought. 

Her  father  home  again  in  triumph  brought ! 

To  think  !  song  !  music  !  dance  and  faces  bright ! 

Greetings,  and  love  unhindered  and  untaught ! 

All  this  went  in  her  mind,  as  at  the  light 

She  blindly  gazed,  forgetting  that  the  night  was  night. 

LXVI. 

Now  while  her  friends  sit  round  to  watch  and  guard, 

We  leave  her  with  them  and  her  thoughts  to  stay. 

Fierce  o'er  the  parapets  the  lightenings  glared 

At  San  Augustine  —  dangerous  the  way, 

For,  in  their  drowsy  tents  an  army  lay ! 

Atlassa  crept  towards  a  grizly  tow'r, 

Where  is  the  storied  prison,  old  and  gray ; 

Louder  the  tempest  roared  in  that  grim  hour,     [low'r  ! 

And  rolled  the  sea  to  meet  the  heav'n  that  seem'd  to 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  53 

LXVII. 

Dark  rose  the  walls,  a  church  and  prison  joined,    • 
Their  kindred  glooms  to  blend  and  intermix. 
Dungeon'd  in  one,  the  unknown  victim  pined, 
And  in  the  other  mid  quaint  candlesticks, 
Sombre  and  weird  arose  a  crucifix : 
How  fitly  these  portrayed  the  men  who  built 
A  house  of  God  o'ershadowed  by  old  Nick's  — : 
Vain  man,  to  thus  offend  thy  Maker !  wilt 
Thou  look  on  images  to  take  away  thy  guilt ! 

LXVIII. 

How  slight  the  transit  superstition  makes 
From  common  crime  to  acts  of  righteousness  ! 
E'en  human  life  in  willful  hate  she  takes, 
Makes  earth  a  waste  and  desert  of  distress, 
Where  lust  and  rapine  rival  in  excess  ; 
Then  from  the  smoke  of  some  mysterious  rite, 
She  shadows  forth  in  all  as  if  to  bless  ! 
And  whose  disputes  must  perish  in  her  sight, 
An  heretic,  an  enemy  of  God  and  right ! 

LXIX. 

Man  will  hold  some  religion,  most  believe, 
Mainly  to  hush  the  soul's  rebuke  of  wrong ; 
They  would  their  very  conscious  selves  deceive, 
By  hearing  God's  will  in  an  unknown  tongue, 
And  recitals  not  understood  and  long. 
Hence,  from  the  conscience,  they  with  ease  appeal 
To  crime's  high  court,  the  mysteries  among. 
What  then  are  human  hearts? —  earth's  woe  or  weal 
When  man  wrongs  man,  inspired  divinely  not  to  feel 


54  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

LXX. 

Thus  envy's  blist'rous  tongue  her  victim  smites, 

Malice  her  bludgeon  whirls,  Theft  stalks  abroad, 

Lust  thrives,  and  like  a  deadly  serpent  bites, 

And  highway  vandalism  takes  the  road 

To  spoil  the  earth  and  preach  the  word  of  God  ! 

Oh  !  infamous  insult  to  heaven  and  earth  ! 

Well  was  the  ground  on  Sin's  account  called  Nod  ! 

The  sum  of  crimes  that  have  religious  birth       [dearth 

Would  blight  the  hills    of  God  and  smite  them  with  a 

LXXI. 

Thus,  San  Augustine's  church  and  prison  joined, 

Fitly  portrayed  crime's  eminent  success ; 

When  hounds  and  murderous  troops  were  loosed  to  find 

The  unsuspecting  exile,  and  to  press 

The  wretched  Seminole  from  his  recess 

In  hommock  far,  or  by  the  dark  bayou ; 

To  burn  his  corn-fields  in  the  wilderness, 

And  drag  the  helpless  child  and  mother,  thro' 

Infested  swamps  to  die  in  chains  as  felons  do. 

LXXII. 

Start  not !  the  church  and  prison  are  our  text. 
The  Seminole  and  exile  far  removed 
From  busier  scenes,  led  harmless  lives,  unvexed 
And  unmolested  mid  the  groves  they  loved  ; 
Till  proud  Columbia  for  all  time  proved 
How  much  her  high  religion  could  perform, 
When  her  slave-holding  sons  were  truly  moved  !  — 
How  soon  her  pious  bosom  could  grow  warm, 
When  heathen  tribes  submitted  to  her  cruel  arm. 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  55 

LXXIII. 

If  e'er  the  muse  of  hist'ry  sits  to  write, 

And  Florida  appear  upon  her  page, 

This  nation's  "crimes  will  blush  the  noonday  light, 

And  ******  's  name  will  lead  her  criminal  age  ! 

Of  all  the  cruel  wars  she  e'er  did  wage, 

The  cruelest  will  be  to  him  assigned  ! 

The  hardened  soldier's  lust,  the  bloodhound's  rage, 

And  San  Augustine's  church  and  prison  joined, 

Will  be  fit  monuments  for  his  chivalric  mind  ! 

LXXIV. 

Extermination  was  his  highest  creed, 
Bondage  the  one  provision  of  his  will, 
The  blood  of  innocence  marred  not  the  deed, 
He  knew  no  art  of  warfare  but  to  kill : 
Slaying  was  sweet,  but  slaughter  sweeter  still  ! 
A  human  monster,  traced  thro'  tears  and  blood 
From  Blount's  poor  fort  on  Apalachi's  hill, 
To  Tampa's  waters  and  the  Mexic  flood,  — 
But,  to  forget  him,  is,  perhaps  a  common  good ! 

LXXV. 

Heard  ye  not  in  the  cypress  come  a  troop? 

Saw  ye  not  by  the  gray  old  battlement, 

In  fear's  deep  anguish  hurdled  exiles  stoop  ; 

Wife,  mother,  child  within  the  stockade  pent, 

As  down  the  angry  Apalachi  went 

The  steamy  monitor,  to  belch  out  death, 

While  savage  Creeks  rushed  thro'  the  bloody  rent 

Made  by  the  iron  havoc  of  its  breath, 

To  massacre  the  wounded  that  did  shriek  beneath  ? 


56  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

LXXVI. 

A  sense  of  wrong  burned  in  Atlassa's  veins, 
Flowed  with  his  life,  and  like  a  fever  eat ; 
No  coward's  act  upon  his  hands  left  stains ; 
He  hated  e'en  the  likeness  of  deceit,  — 
In  equal  contest  he  knew  no  defeat  — 
The  one  brave  object  of  incessant  raids, 
E'en  Taylor's  vet'rans  from  him  must  retreat ; 
So  fierce  he  stood  in  Mickasukie's  shades, 
The  invincible  watcher  of  the  everglades ! 

LXXVII. 

But,  on  he  fares  beneath  the  prison  walls, 

The  gates  are  shut,  and  stoutly  barred  the  door ; 

A  drowsy  sent'nel  slumbers  in  the  halls, 

And  growls  a  snarlish  cur  upon  the  floor. 

Quickly  Atlassa  scans  the  building  o'er, 

Locates  each  striking  object,  and  discerns 

How  best  to  lead  assault,  and  leaves  before 

A  soldier  of  his  daring  venture  learns  ; 

Leaps  from  the  walls  and  to  his  waiting  braves  returns. 

LXXVIII. 

O'er  San  Augustine's  gloomy  turrets  rose 

Serenest  morn,  —  forth  from  a  brilliant  rift, 

Where  barring  clouds  till  now  the  east  did  close, 

The  bright  sun  shone.     Vapors  began  to  drift 

Along  the  valleys,  and  from  forest  lift 

Their  mantling  mists.     Refreshed  the  wide  earth  woke, 

And  to  her  joyous  hosts  renewed  the  gift 

Of  song  and  vigor  :  field  and  woodlawn  spoke,    [broke. 

And   rousing  drums    anon,  the  camp's  deep  slumbers 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  57 

LXXIX. 

The  busy  tents  below  the  chieftain  stirred, 

The  troops  were  seen  towards  a  centre  come  ; 

And  now  the  officers'  clear  calls  he  heard,  — 

The  soldiers'  hurrying  tread  —  the  rattling  drum  — 

The  "  halt"  the  "  forward !  "  slow',  the  hush  !  the  hum  — 

The  rush  !  the  roar  !  the  "  double-quick,"  and  then 

The  call,  the  count,  the  handling  wearisome 

Of  arms,  and  now  the  "  double-quick  !  "  again  — 

And  wondered  if  by  this  they  multiplied  their  men  ! 

LXXX. 

Forth  rode  the  troopers  in  the  rising  sun, 

To  march  against  some  unsuspecting  town. 

Atlassa  saw  them  —  idly  chatting  on,  — 

Bright  gleamed  their  armor,  as  they  sauntered  down 

The  sedgy  slope  with  boxwood  overgrown. 

Far  on  their  way  his  eager  eye  pursued  ; 

The  pent  up  fires  that  with  his  life  had  flown, 

Now  flamed  anew,  and  as  he  gazing  stood; 

Deep  in  his  soul  he  would  have  met  them  if  he  could. 

LXXXI. 

Soon  from  the  gates  of  San  Augustine,  he 

Spied  water  carriers  making  for  a  brook 

Beneath  a  copse  —  their  guards  were  only  three. 

He  knew  Palmecho  by  his  high-born  look ; 

This   was  his  time  !  —  forth  from  his  thick-wood  nook, 

Covered  by  under-brush,  he  crept  around, 

And  near  the  stream  a  fair  position  took,  — 

Thee  rifle  shots  loud  o'er  the  fort  did  sound,        [found. 

And  by  the  sallying  squads  the  three  dead  guards  were 


58  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

LXXXII. 

No  tidings  were  at  Mickasukie  heard 

Of  Ewald  or  her  guards,  at  late  nightfall. 

Atlassa  with  his  rescued  friend  appeared, 

But  joy  was  mute  — a  deep  dread  did  enthrall, 

And  painful  apprehensions  trouble  all. 

Unuttered  anguish  settled  like  a  spell 

That  e'en  the  oldest  warriors  did  appall. 

"  Lost !  "  was  the  whisper  that  on  some  hearts  fell, 

And  "  carried  off ! "  to  others  was  a  dismal  knell ! 

LXXXIII. 

Next  morn  Atlassa  and  his  daring  band 

Are  in  Twasinta,  yet  no  tidings  come. 

At  noon  they  wait  —  till  nightfall  is  at  hand, 

Still,  still  they  hope  that  Ewald  may  come  home. 

Suspense  yet  deepens,  —  still  they  look  for  some 

Unprobable  relief!     Palmecho's  groans 

Begin,  and  anguish  is  no  longer  dumb  ! 

Among  his  friends  he  breaks  in  bitter  moans, 

And  like  a  hopeless  child  laments  in  falt'ring  tones. 

LXXXIV. 

Atlassa  looks  upon  his  aged  friend, 
But  can  not  speak,  for  words  are  empty  now ! 
Straight'ning  to  all  his  hight,  he  will  not  bend, 
For  valor  sits  enthroned  upon  his  brow,  — 
Ready  to  strike,  he  knows  not  where  nor  how ! 
So  stands  a  lion  when  a  foe  he  hears, 
Knitting  his  nerves  to  deal  the  fatal  blow : 
Alarmed  not  that  a  dreadful  struggle  nears, 
But  furious  to  meet  who  stealthily  appears. 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  59 

LXXXV. 

Not  long  he  stood ;  thrice  strode  he  in  the  halls, 
So  lately  made  the  scenes  of  loud  despair. 
Now  to  his  braves  in  undertones  he  calls,  — 
They  hear  but  answer  not,  —  with  utmost  care, 
He  seems  to  counsel  and  his  aims  declare. 
They  act  assent !  they  seize  their  arms  !  they  rise  ! 
The  signal  giv'n,  a  war-whoop  rends  the  air ! 
Back  to  his  clans  the  Seminole  now  flies, 
And  far  and  near  the  forest  answers  to  his  cries  ! 

LXXXVI. 

"  My  tears  are  for  thee,  Ewald  !     Oh  !  my  tears  ! 
My  cheeks  do  drink  them  as  the  parching  sod 
Drinks  up  the  rain  !     How  joyless  now  my  years  ! 
My  head  is  low  !     Ah  !  doth  this  heavy  rod 
Chastise  me  to  more  perfect  trust  in  God  ? 
Else  why,  my  sweet  child,  art  thou  gone  from  me  ! 
But,  if  my  future  must  in  thorns  be  trod, 
I'll  gird  my  loins  about  with  strength,  and  be 
Faithful  till  death,  and  trust  my  Ewald  yet  to  see ! " 

LXXXVII. 

"  On  many  hills  my  herded  cattle  feed, 

My  flocks  are  fair  to  see^  and  as  for  gold, 

It  falleth  never  to  my  lot  to  need. 

My  maids  sing  to  me,  and  my  young  men  hold 

Their  peace  if  I  pass  by !     Now,  as  of  old, 

My  lands  do  drop  with  fatness  ! — yet,  have  I 

E'er  taken  ought  and  not  restored  four-fold  ? 

Have  I  not  filled  the  empty  ?     If  the  cry 

Of  any  widow  came  to  me,  drew  I  not  nigh  ?  " 


60  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

LXXXVIII. 

"  What  have  7  coveted  ?     What  have  I  craved  ? 

Fame,  length  of  years,  or  glitt'ring  hoarded  pounds? 

Is  God  not  reconciled,  am  I  not  saved 

In  my  Redeemer's  all-atoning  wounds  ? 

If  sin  aboundeth,  grace  much  more  abounds ! 

Why,  then,  my  broken  spirit,  art  thou  cast 

A  fruitless  branch  ?  a  waste  on  barren  grounds  ? 

Ah !  when  the  summertide  of  life  is  past, 

Why  am  I  left  to  grieve  and  linger  on  at  last !  " 

LXXXIX. 

"  My  Ewald  was  a  young  roe  by  the  brook 

Of  a  well  upon  the  mountains  !     She  stood 

In  quiet  places  by  the  rocks  ;  she  took 

Alarm  at  winds  in  the  leaves  of  the  wood, 

And  shrank  backwards,  she  was  so  shy !  she  could 

Lie  down  on  beds  of  violets,  and  they 

Rose  after  her!  — the  lilies  of  the  flood 

By  Candahar  did  love  her  !  In  the  way  [stay." 

From  Tampa  and  the  sea  'mong  sweet  shrubs  was  her 

XC. 

"  My  Ewald,  oh  !  my  young  roe  !  how  the  shades 

Of  thy  Twasinta  mourn  !  Disconsolate 

Are  all  her  dwellings  !     Eve  returns,  and  fades 

The  twilight  on  the  hills !  but  at  the  gate 

Beneath  the  elms,  no  more  do  congregate 

Our  maids  and  young  men  !  our  old  men  call  thee, 

But  them  thou  answer'st  not,  until  their  weight 

Of  grief,  by  reason  of  their  years,  can  be 

No  longer  borne  !     The  matron's  eyes  are  tearful  —  she 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  6l 

XCI. 

"  In  silence  waits,  thou  comest  not,  and  still 
Her  look  is  for  thy  coming !     Dumb  is  mirth  ! 
The  valleys  sing  not  —  hushed  is  the  sad  hill ! 
The  windows  are  darkened  —  by  the  dim  hearth 
Our  eyes  have  run  down  till  there  is  a  dearth 
Of  tears !     Without  thee,  Ewald,  my  young  roe  ! 
How  comfortless  is  all  the  bitter  earth ! 
Ah !  whither  gone  my  child  !  canst  thou  not  know  ! 
How  thy  Twasinta  pineth  !  how  her  head  is  low  ! 

XCII. 

"  The  windows  of  high  thought,  were  thy  two  eyes, 
So  large,  dark  and  compelling !     Thy  fair  breasts 
Were  even  domes  that  did  so  gradual  rise 
O'er  shrines  of  love !     The  shade  at  noon,  that  rests 
On  Waxe's  cliffs,  is  thy  dark  brow.     The  vests 
Of  some  sweet  nun,  loose-falling  down,  thy  hair! 
Thy  voice  was  like  the  turtle's  of  the  nests, 
Thy  step  was  as  the  flow'ret-pressing  air ;  — 
Thou  idol  of  my  love,  my  Ewald  young  and  fair ! 

XCIII. 

Lamenting  thus,  up  rose  the  old  Maroon, 

Like  Abraham,  "with  servanis,"  and  went  out, 

Not  knowing  whither  !     Till  the  pensive  moon 

Was  set,  and  darkness  like  a  pall,  about 

Him  fell,  he  pressed  his  strange  and  dismal  route. 

Then  tenting  in  a  wilderness  unknown, 

By  those  whose  eyes  were  quick  and  arms  were  stout, 

Securely  watched,  awearied  he  lay  down, 

In  prayer  and  bitter  meditations  all  alone  ! 


62  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

CANTO    III. 

I. 

On  Tampa's  hights  gray  rose  the  battlements : 
A  summer's  day  had  gone  out  in  the  west ; 
The  conflagration  in  the  elements 
Was  ended,  and  the  quiet  shades  of  rest 
Sank  like  a  dreamer's  visions  on  the  breast 
Of  far  reposing  nature.     Soft  the  hour 
Was,  brooding  on  the  bay,  and  gently  prest 
And  smoothed  its  bosom,  as  vvith  magic  power, 
And  fragrance  there  did  breathe  from  many  a  wind- 
kissed  flow'r. 

II. 

Ewald  before  her  prison  window  sate 
And  leaned  her  face  against  the  iron  bar. 
The  pensive  winds  around  her  seemed  to  wait, 
As  o'er  Twasinta,  beaming  out  afar, 
Beyond  the  dusk,  she  saw  the  evening  star ! 
With  friendly  gleam,  it  dropped  a  ray  of  cheer, 
And  seemed  to  wait  for  her  on  Candahar ! 
And  when  it  beckoned  last  to  disappear, 
She  felt  her  eyes  grow  dim,  and  brushed  away  a  tear. 

III. 

She  saw  the  sentry  pass  with  silent  feet, 
And  heard  the  waters  lisping  to  the  shore. 
Anon  the  muffled  drums  began  to  beat, 
And  moving  throngs  commenced  a  sullen  roar,  — 
It  was  the  sound  of  captives  driv'n  before 
The  troops !     There  husbands,  wives  and  little  ones, 
To  look  upon  Twasinta's  fields  no  more, 
Were  hurried  off.     She  heard  their  bitter  moans, 
And  clanking  chains    that   mingled   with   their   rising 
groans ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  63 

IV. 

The  ship  was  waiting  on  the  busy  tide, 

Palmecho's  faithful  friends  must  soon  be  gone, 

And  in  her  living  tomb  Ewald  must  bide 

The  stony  silence  of  her  fate  alone ! 

Ah !  how  was  her  young  bosom  then  undone  ! 

'Twere  better  that  her  wretched  friends  might  be 

Where  she  might  hear,  at  least,  a  kindred  groan ; 

But  all  was  over,  and  the  sullen  sea 

Rolled  on  as  ever,  —  an  unfathomed  mystery! 

V. 

There  is  a  grateful  balm  for  weeping  eyes ! 
And  e'en  when  trouble's  little  rest  has  flown, 
Slumber,  at  vision's  tender  portals,  tries 
To  shut  the  fevered  lids  forgetful  down ! 
Happy  the  soul  whose  rest  can  find  a  stone, 
If  gentle  slumber  shut  the  aching  breast ! 
Ewald  across  her  wretched  couch  had  thrown 
Herself,  and  closed  her  eyes  in  childish  rest  — 
Young  innocence  so  sweet  could  not  be  long  unblest ! 

VI. 

Ah  !  did  she  dream  !  for  still  her  natal  star, 

Above  the  valleys  shed  a  lingering  ray, 

And  seemed  to  wait  for  her  on  Candahar ! 

Once  more  it  was  the  close  of  gentle  day ; 

A  spirit  brooded  in  the  hilltops  gray,     . 

And  in  the  dusk  were  mellow  sounds  abroad ! 

Up  from  the  solemn  woods  and  far  away, 

The  cheerful  lab'rer  from  his  maize  fields  strode, 

And  lads  were  driving  home  their  cattle  in  the  road. 


64  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

VII. 

The  darkling  elms  were  leaning  o'er  her  gate, 

Like  keepers  of  some  ancient  secret  still !  — 

She  stood  beneath  them,  half  afraid  to  wait ; 

Heard  lazy  bells  come  moping  from  the  hill, 

And  heard  the  witch-complaining  whip-poor-will. 

Ah  !  did  she  dream  !  the  glow-worm's  tiny  glare 

Was  in  the  dews !  she  felt  a  nameless  thrill, 

And  breath  —  warm  flushes  in  the  pulsing  air, 

Mid  sweetest  scent  of  fields  and  gardens  blossom'd  fair. 

VIII. 

Ah !  innocence  and  beauty !  at  thy  age, 

To  see  thee  slumb'ring  there  in  such  a  place,  — 

A  lovely  dreamer  in  a  human  cage ! 

The  entranced  moon  is  looking  in  thy  face,  — 

On  thy  half-conscious  lips,  she  now  doth  trace 

The  quiv'rings  of  young  pleasure's  soft  delight ; 

Such  as  zephyrus  wakes  as  she  doth  race 

With  tiniest  waves ;  or  such  as  sunbeams  bright 

'Mid  wild'ring  toil  of  leaves  are  to  the  ravished  sight ! 

IX. 

Twasinta,  oh  Twasinta  !  couldst  thou  see, 
Thro'  tears,  thou  now  wouldst  look  upon  thy  child, 
As  here  she  innocently  dreams  of  thee  ! 
Her  shy  feet  press  thy  meadows  undefiled, 
'Mid  first-born  dews !  Her  heart  is  gay  and  wild 
In  sweet  unconsciousness  of  what  impends,  — 
She  hears  thy  lulling  boughs  and  voices  mild, 
As  o'er  her  native  flow'rs  once  more  she  bends  !  — 
But  where  the  spoiler  lurks,  how  soon  the  bliss-dream 
ends! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  65 

X. 

Of  creeping  things,  there's  none  so  vile,  or  worse 

Than  man,  when  he,  the  creature  of  his  lusts, 

Bred  in  the  kennel  of  Satanic  force, 

Is  woman's  lord.     Never  Brazilian  dusts 

Were  marked  by  a  worse  adder's  slime !     He  thrusts 

A  scorching  glare  that  burns  in  like  a  coal, 

And  fangs  the  writhing  life  that  vainly  trusts 

Her  charms  exposed  to  move  him !     His  control 

Complete,  a  beast  he  gloats,  extinguishing  the  soul ! 

XI. 

The  moving  of  an  iron  bolt  below, 

Harsh  thro'  the  corridor  grates  on  the  ear ! 

Light  footfalls  follow  cautiously  and  slow,  — 

Now  pausing  —  dying  out  —  they  disappear, 

And  now  returning,  stealthily  more  near. 

Ewald  springs  softly  to  her  bolted  door, 

And  still  as  statue  leans  in  breathless  fear ; 

Till,  pale  as  moonbeams  on  her  prison  floor,         [more. 

Her  young  cheeks  turn,  as  nearer  draw  the  steps  once 

XII. 

The  dusky  shadows  seem  to  glint  and  move  — 

The  ghostly  creatures  of  expectancy, 

Wont  mid  such  scenes  in  these  dark  halls  to  rove, 

And  perch  around  and  gloat  mysteriously ! 

Yet  Ewald  leans  and  listens  tremblingly. 

But  now  what  pangs  !  —  a  hurried  footstep  lands 

Without,  a  hasty  hand  thrusts  in  a  key,  — 

The  iron  yields  !  a  man  before  her  stands  !  —    [hands  ! 

She  darts  across  her  cell,  she  moans !  she  wrings  her 


66 


SEMINOLES 


XIII. 


He  follows  up,  —  at  each  approach  she  flies  — 
She  shrinks  —  she  mutters  and  entreating  stares  ! 
The  sullen  walls  drink  up  her  fruitless  cries, 
While  thus  enraged  the  monster  on  her  glares, 
And  with  brute  force  to  seize  his  prey  prepares ! 
One  pleading  look  to  heav'n  she  wildly  throws, 
And  sinks  upon  her  couch  still  mutt'ring  prayers  ; 
Then  like  a  flying  fury  at  him  goes, 
Flings  wide  her  prison  door  and  publishes  her  woes ! 

XIV. 

So  the  caged  bird  goes  struggling  from  the  hand, 
To  beat  and  flut'ter  'gainst  her  wirery  dome ; 
And  'scapes  at  last,  to  leave  her  troubler  stand 
Astonished,  as  she  gains  her  woody  home  ! 
How  Ewald  passed  the  night,  and  saved  by  whom, 
No  one  may  tell,  but  she  was  saved  from  shame, 
And  when  my  patient  reader  shall  have  come 
To  ponder  well  a  vet'ran  leader's  name, 
He  may  remember  that  to  him  belongs  the  fame. 

XV. 

Still  on  misfortune  blindly  moves  her  train ! 
We  may  not  linger  here ;  the  time  draws  nigh, 
Twasinta's  wasted  homes  appeal  in  vain, 
Palmecho  sees  his  doom !  Ah  !  must  he  die  ? 
The  lurid  morn  seems  waiting  in  the  sky, 
As  the  avenger's  mortal  work  proceeds  ! 
Surely,  if  human  acts  are  seen  on  high, 
The  bosom  of  angelic  nature  bleeds, 
As  yonder  hangman  to  the  death  his  victim  leads  ! 


OR    RAPE   OF    FLORIDA.  6/ 

XVI. 

Lo  !  where  Palmecho  stoops  within  the  gate, 

How  touching  is  his  tender  last  farewell ! 

His  child  from  him  they  cannot  separate, 

Tho'  ruthless  hands  provoke  the  purpose  fell ! 

A  daughter's  sweet  affection  who  can  tell  ? 

A  father's  benediction  how  sublime, 

When  on  his  lips  the  words  of  parting  dwell, 

And  he  is  pausing  on  the  brink  of  time, 

To  lift  his  eyes  towards  a  brighter,  holier  clime  ! 

XVII. 

Could  scenes  of  bloodshed  fill  the  eyes  of  death 
With  mischief  too  abhorrent,  —  could  the  pores 
Of  cruelty  ooze  drops,  or  his  hot  breath 
Grow  dull  and  bated  —  on  the  cypress  shores 
Where  Ewald  for  her  aged  sire  implores, 
A  cause  is  seen.     Lo  !  where  yon  scaffold  stands 
Gloomy  above,  while  rock-watched  Tampa  roars ! 
Clench'd  in  despair  behold  her  outstretched  hands, 
Whilst  round  her  grimly  press  the  war-stained  soldier- 
bands  ! 

XVIII. 

Ah !  doomed  to  die  for  shedding  human  blood, 

He  who  has  never  caused  a  mortal  pain ! 

But  never  martyr's  faith  more  nobly  stood 

A  sacrifice  by  tyrant  madly  slain ! 

Never  did  resignation  less  complain ! 

Stern  looking  on  his  executioner, 

He  pities  him,  nor  hopes  to  pity  gain ; 

When  'mid  the  throngs  he  hears  his  child  demur, 

And  turns  to  rest  a  parent's  loving  gaze  on  her ! 


68  TWASINTA'S  SEMINOLES 

XIX. 

"  Thou  last  hope  of  my  dotage,  oh  !  my  child ; 
Thou  one  green  branch  of  age's  withered  tree, 
I  see  thee  shiv'ring  in  the  tempest  wild, 
That  tears  thy  parent  trunk  away  from  thee ! 
Ah !  I  could  wish  thou  didst  not  mourn  for  me  ! 
Then  could  I  yearn  to  find  the  long,  long  sleep 
That  kisses  down  life's  damp  lids  tranquilly 
From  all  their  sorrows  !     But  thy  courage  keep  — 
The  end  may  come  at  last,  with  joy  for  those  who  weep ! " 

XX. 

Ah  !  there  was  Pathos  on  her  very  knees, 

And  chained  Endurance  pitying  his  child ! 

E'en  Cruelty,  red-handed's  ill  at  ease 

Where  beauty  pleads  so  tenderly  and  wild ; 

And  to  death's  stroke  old  age  stands  reconciled,  [spare ! " 

"  Spare  !  spare  my  father!  won't  you!  —  won't  you  — 

The  daughter  cries  till  vengeance  is  beguiled 

From  wanton  haste,  and  seems  for  once  to  care, 

And  hold  his  doubtful  breath  at  shrieks  of  wild  despair ! 

XXI. 

"  My  father !  oh,  my  father !     Do  not  bring 

His  guiltless  hairs  dishonored  to  the  grave ! 

He  did  not  —  could  not  have  done  such  a  thing! 

He  never  wronged  a  soul !  —  he  never  gave 

A  child  offense  !     Oh  !  do  but  this,  I  crave  !  — 

Be  not  in  haste  a  good  man's  blood  to  shed ! 

Oh !  spare !  and  I  will  be  your  willing  slave 

Till  he  who  to  the  fatal  rescue  led 

Shall  show  that  by  Palmecho's  hand  no  soldier  bled ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  69 

XXII. 

A  brawny  guard  the  frantic  pleader  grasps, 

To  force  her  off,  —  she  breaks  away  and  flies 

Thro'  the  grim  throng,  towards  her  father — clasps 

His  stooping  neck, —  upon  his  bosom  lies, 

And  looking  cold  in  her  assailant's  eyes, 

Half  hid  in  raven  clouds  of  falling  hair,  — 

"  You  shall  not! —  Oh  !  you  shall  not!  shall  not  /  "  cries. 

Ah !  what  a  stroke  for  tragic  art  was  there,  — 

Grief  on  his  aged  breast  supporting  young  despair ! 

XXIII. 

The  spirits  of  the  wood  by  Tampa  seem 
To  sink  their  hidings  into  darker  shade. 
There  lingers  not  the  least  reluctant  beam 
Amid  the  gloom  that  doth  the  scene  pervade. 
The  scaffold  specter-like,  on  high  arrayed, 
Looks  down  in  grim  rebuke.     A  pause  ensues, 
A  moment  flies  —  another  still  delayed 
Brings  indecision^  —  when  the  leaders  choose 
To  wait,  and  to  secure  Atlassa,  Ewald  use. 

XXIV. 

"  Return  them  to  their  cells  !  "  is  the  command  ; 
"A  fortnight  hence  shall  be  the  time  allowed, 
And  if  Atlassa  come  not  with  his  band, 
Palmecho  hangs  !     And  thus  this  Nation  vowed  ! 
Ah !  could  such  be,  when  all  the  land  was  proud 
And  boastful  of  the  policy  of  war, 
That  swept  from  over  Florida  the  cloud 
That  brooded  in  destruction's  gloom  afar? 
Was  such  majestic  battle's  only  exemplar! 


70  TWASINTA  S    SEMINOLES 

XXV. 

Oh  !  Florida  !  how  fair  and  yet  how  frail, 

Thou  daughter  of  the  Sun,  bereft,  forlorn ! 

'Tis  sad  to  hear  thy  exiled  children's  wail, 

And  hear  thy  empty  fields  in  concert  mourn, 

While  Rapine  dwells  where  Peace  did  once  sojourn! 

'Tis  sad  that  Ewald  now  in  prison  pines. 

Ah  !  it  were  better  to  have  ne'er  been  born  ! 

But  there  is  still  a  hope  that  ne'er  resigns,  [joins. 

And  woman's  heart  is  strong  when  this  with  courage 

XXVI. 

The  moon  was  low  on  Tampa's  quiet  wave, 
The  drowsy  camp  was  silent  in  the  hill, 
And  patient  earth  was  all  composure,  save, 
A  little  while  away,  a  night  bird  shrill 
Trilling  her  throat  was  heard,  when  all  was  still. 
A  sentinel  lone  standing  in  the  moon 
Was  all  that  might  be  seen  of  life,  until 
Beneath  the  prison  walls  there  did  commune 
Twasinta's  child  and  Abraham,  the  old  Maroon. 

XXVI. 

Thus  spoke  the  eager  maid  :  "-Oh  !  Abraham, 
Be  thou  my  message-bearing  Angel !     Fly  ! 
Find  out  his  camp  !  —  inform  him  where  I  am  — 
Tell  him  his  friend  Palmecho's  doomed  to  die,  — 
Tell  him  to  come  in  haste,  the  time  is  nigh ! 
He  is  a  warrior  and  a  wary  chief, 
And  keeps  his  guard,  but  tell  him,  somehow  I 
Am  anxious  that  he  watch!  —  be  not  too  brief — 
For  harm  to  him  will  add  calamity  to  grief! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  J\ 

XXVIII. 

"  Hint  that  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war 

Suggest  strong  body-guards  and  chosen  men. 

And  let  a  truce  flag,  waving  from  afar, 

Impose  a  friendly  aspect ;  gathering  then 

His  warriors  well  about  him,  wait,  and  when 

The  garrison  comes  out,  be  it  declared 

Who  slew  the  guards  in  San  Augustine's  glen. 

Then  may  Palmecho's  life  to  me  be  spared, 

And  him  to  rescue,  mankind  know,  Atlassa  dared ! " 

XXIX. 

Now,  Abraham  !  if  you  have  ever  loved 

A  child  —  your  own  —  or  if  you  e'er  did  feel 

A  fount  of  sorrow  in  your  bosom  moved, 

Turn  not  your  ear  from  wildest  grief's  appeal ! 

Earth's  last  support  to  woman's  trembling  weal 

Is  faith  in  man  !  —  then  covenant  with  me  — 

While  at  the  shrine  of  trust  my  soul  shall  kneel,  — 

Do  covenant  that  thou  wilt  faithful  be,  [thee  ! 

And  woman's  prayers  in  heaven  shall  breathe  a  word  for 

XXX. 

The  brave  old  chief  of  peace  and  kindly  deeds, 

Lifted  towards  the  moon  his  bronzed  brow, 

And  pond'ring  as  a  man  who  deeply  heeds, 

Uttered  his  answer  carefully  and  low : 

"  Maiden,  the  stars  are  looking  at  me  now,  — 

They  oft  have  seen  me,  thro'  the  long,  long  past, 

Going  about  for  peace ;  and  they  will  glow 

As  many  witnesses,  that,  to  the  last, 

The  feet  of  Abraham,  for  good  were  ever  fast. 


72  TWASINTA'S  SEMINOLES 

XXXI. 

rt  The  cypress  and  the  desert  pine  can  tell 
How  often  I  have  traveled  night  and  day, 
And  in  their  shades  what  perils  me  befell, 
From  savage  beasts  infesting  every  way, 
And  scouts  more  savage  that  around  me  lay ; 
That  I  should  falter  now,  'twould  seem  too  late,  — 
Trust  me  f  is  all  that  Abraham  can  say  !  " 
Thus  ended,  Ewald  watched  him  from  the  gate, 
Till  lost  from  view  within  the  moon-lit  forests  great. 

XXXII. 

Hail  Florida!  ye  palmy 'forests  hail  ! 

Hail  densest  pines  and  fields  of  endless  bloom ! 

'Twas  sweet,  I  ween,  in  Apalachi's  vale, 

To  wander  forth  in  the  deep  foliage  gloom, 

Where  the  wide  air  was  scarce  of  breathing  room,  — 

To  see  the  soft  bananas  drooping  thro', 

And  the  great  dusky  yellow  orange  loom 

Mid  languid  leaves :  Thus  as  the  aspect  grew 

From  change  to  change,the  eye  did  fresh  delights  pursue. 

XXXIII. 

'Twas  sweet  to  see  the  blossoms,  many-hued, 

Flush  in  the  Summertide's  luxuriant  smile, 

Soft  shim'ring  in  the  sunlight,  half  subdued 

By  great  dense  boughs  of  green.     'Twas  sweet  to  while 

The  hours  by  fenceless  paths  for  many  a  mile  ; 

To  pause  'mid  the  great  shades  where  the  birds  swung, 

And  follow  fancy's  pleased  eye  thro'  each  aisle, 

To  nymph  abodes,  the  leafy  haunts  among ;      [tongue. 

Where  hues  had  speech  and  fragrance  wooed  us  with  her 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  73 

XXXIV. 

Such  scenes  as  these,  the  exile's  pensive  eye 

Enjoyed  with  satisfaction  deep  and  true. 

The  Seminole  looked  proud  and  dreamily, 

Or  musing  walked,  with  scarcely  more  to  do. 

Surely  there  never  was  a  happier  view ! 

From  town  to  town,  mid  groves  and  by  the  sea, 

To  Mickasukie  and  the  great  Wahoo ; 

The  joyous  scenes  of  Summer  wild  and  free, 

Lured  Care  to  rest  on  Pleasure's  lap  continually. 

XXXV. 

Hark !  in  the  troubled  West  what  means  this  roar  ? 

Like  forests  in  a  storm's  tremendous  glee, 

Or  like  the  waves  on  dread  Atlantic's  shore, 

It  rolls  and  breaks  around  Mickanopy  ! 

Oh!  what  hath  roused  this  angry  human  sea? 

Why  howls  the  waste  in  such  unwonted  throes  ? 

What  rends  the  bosom  of  tranquillity  ? 

The  loud,  resistless  onset  of  fierce  foes, 

Startles  a  peaceful  land  and  breaks  its  deep  repose ! 

XXXVI. 

Lo  !  the  fierce  bands  from  distant  solitudes, 

And  hasty  scouts  from  Apalachi's  side ! 

The  mutt'ring  foe  is  threading  Tampa's  woods, 

With  savage  Creeks  and  loud-mouthed  hounds  allied ; 

Wide  o'er  the  land  his  mounted  patrols  ride, 

Thro'  hommocks  dark  and  forests  dense  they  lead ; 

While  burning  villages  afar  descried, 

Proclaim  the  bold  incendiary's  deed, 

And  make  the  heavens  lurid  where  the  hosts  proceed  ! 


74  TWASINTA'S  SEMINOLES 

XXXVII. 

This  is  the  conquest  of  the  flow'ry  land ! 

He  who  has  earned  the  fame  of  many  wars  — 

America's  chief  captain,  in  command, 

Marshals  his  battle-hardened  regulars  ! 

Proud  thro'  the  pine  woods  float  the  stripes  and  stars, 

And  restive  steeds  toward  the  onset  neigh ; 

While,  kindling  recollections  of  his  scars, 

In  his  green  haunts  no  longer  to  give  way, 

The  Seminole  looks  forth,  a  hunted  beast  at  bay ! 

XXXVIII. 

Ah !  'tis  the  dreadful  eve  of  battle  now ! 
The  low'ring  storm  of  nations  comes  apace ; 
Deep  clouds  have  settled  on  Destruction's  brow, 
And  dismal  thunders  hem  Atlassa's  race ! 
Ah !  what  but  valor  stands  in  such  a  place  ? 
Wives,  children,  and  the  old,  all  mounted  wait 
To  fly  at  once,  while  in  each  warrior's  face 
The  inwrought  lines  of  deep,  resentful  hate 
Betray  that  now  resistance  will  be  desperate. 

XXXIX. 

The  threat'ning  storm  no  longer  holds  its  wrath, 

The  sanguine  troops  their  stubborn  foe  engage ; 

While  allied  Creeks  skulk  'round  in  every  path, 

Nefarious  flankings,  right  and  left  to  wage ; 

Torturing  Desperation  into  rage, 

And  demon  yells  with  roar  of  muskets  blend : 

But,  rallying  fierce  upon  the  hommock's  edge, 

They  who  for  homes  and  liberty  contend, 

As  grim  as  Hate  receive  the  troops  and  on  them  bend 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  75 

XL. 

His  fearless  plume,  lo  !  how  Atlassa  bears, 

For  deadly  aiming  guns  a  brilliant  mark ! 

The  erring  bullet  hisses  at  his  ears, 

But  heedless  still  he  walks  a  god  ;  and  hark  ! 

His  voice  is  clear  !  Loud  o'er  the  battle  dark 

Its  tones  of  magic  urge  his  braves  to  fame 

And  deeds  of  daring !  and  the  latest  spark 

Of  ebbing  life  it  kindles  to  a  flame, 

As  each  expiring  warrior  gasps  his  leader's  name ! 

XLI. 

Ah  !  ye  who  con  the  musty  tomes  of  eld, 

To  watch  the  fabled  scorpions  of  ire 

Kindle  the  fatal  wrath  that  mankind  held 

in  mortal  dread,  behold  this  chief,  in  dire 

And  desp'rate  conflict,  build  a  deadlier  fire 

Around  the  rude  homes  of  his  tribal  braves ! 

Tortured,  the  angry  flames  can  not  expire, 

Each  warrior  like  a  fury  now  behaves,  —  [slaves  ? 

All  like  wild  beasts  hunt  death  !    Ah !  can  such  men  be 

XLII. 

Furies  imprisoned  by  infernal  hate, 
Where  the  hot  irons  circumvex  their  pains, 
Surge  not  more  fierce  on  Torture's  brazen  gate, 
Nor  writhe  defiant  more  in  blist'ring  chains, 
When,  death  inducing  not,  doth  stream  their  veins  ; 
Than  surge  and  writhe  these  Seminoles  beneath 
The  hail  of  angry  lead  that  on  them  rains ! 
From  tree  and  hommock  rushing  to  the  death, 
They  blanch  grim  slaughter's  cheeks  and  drink  his  very 
breath  ! 


76  TWASINTA'S  SEMINOLES 

XLIII. 

Flying  like  wing'd  madness  on  what  they  seeth, 
They  hand  the  foe  within  the  dreadful  breach ! 
Fastening  him  like  torments  with  hungry  teeth, 
Till  lifeless  one  shall  sink,  and  sometimes  each, 
They  hew  down  all  within  the  tom'hawk's  reach  ! 
So  fly  infuriated  hornets  from  their  nests, 
Upon  assailants :     Thus  doth  valor  teach, 
When  roused  to  desperation's  potent  tests, 
That  "  Liberty  or  Death,"  is  one  of  God's  behests ! 

XLIV. 

Fierce  Spirit  of  the  Seminole !  what  fate 

Can  tame  thy  warring  sons  upon  the  field  ! 

I  see  them  for  a  Nation's  strength  too  great  — 

Outnumbered  and  outarmed  they  will  not  yield  ! 

Till  by  the  darkness  they  are  well  concealed, 

They  hold  an  army  back  and  guard  their  dead  ; 

Thus  shall  their  immortality  be  sealed, 

The  bravest  of  the  brave,  to  victory  led, 

By  one  whose  plume  would  honor  e'en  a  Bruce's  head  ! 

XLV. 

Down  to  the  end  of  time  be  it  proclaimed ! 

Up  to  the  skies  of  fame  let  it  be  rung ! 

Wherever  valor's  sacrifice  is  named, 

Whenever  plaudits  fire  the  human  tongue  ; 

Or  by  sweet  strings  expressed,  or  mortals  sung, 

Let  it  go  forth,  and  let  mankind  attest, 

That,  Seminoles  and  exiles,  old  and  young, 

Upon  the  bosom  of  their  country  prest ; 

By  valiant  deeds  are  shrined  in  ev'ry  patriot  breast ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  JJ 

XLVI. 

Thro'  the  dead  desolation  of  the  past, 

The  eye  of  Freedom  searches  not  in  vain, 

For  her  surviving  shrines,  —  the  pomp  and  blast 

Of  might  and  red  Dominion,  could  attain 

To  manacling  the  world's  limbs  and  its  brain ; 

But  Freedom's  sons  must  dwell  unknown,  —  apart  — 

Or  wander  hopeless,  in  Contempt's  sad  plain  ; 

Yet  ever,  and  anon,  some  giant  heart,  — 

Some  prince  of  thought,  a  revolution's  tide  would  start. 

XLVII. 

Some  Bruce  or  Tell,  who  drank  the  mountain  breath 

Of  Freedom,  and  arose  to  meet  her  morn ; 

Some  Brown  or  Lovejoy,  whose  contempt  of  death, 

Was  of  the  sacred  love  of  Freedom  born,  — 

Whose  mentioned  dust  would  shame  the  lips  of  scorn  ! 

Some  Jefferson,  the  Knight  of  Justice  fair, 

Whose  thoughts  the  brow  of  ages  still  adorn; 

And  whose  brave  lance  of  independence  rare, 

Could  thrust  base  Superstition  in  her  dragon  lair! 

XLVIII. 

Or  some  Atlassa,  who  could  call  his  braves 

To  turfy  beds  of  glory  in  the  dell, 

Or  vict'ry  o'er  those  who  would  make  them  slaves  !  — 

But  for  such  men  the  wide  earth  were  a  hell, 

Where  vampire  priests  and  kingly  vultures  fell, 

Plucking  the  fleshless  bones  of  human  woe 

Would  perch  thro'  time  !  and  in  the  waste  and  spell 

Of  nniversal  carnage,  loud  or  low, 

The  owls  of  Superstition  would  forever  go. 


78  TWASINTA'S  SEMINOLES 

XLIX. 

The  enthusiasts'  torch  that  lit  their  beacon  fires 

From  Plymouth's  Sea  to  cold  Ontario's  coasts, 

Shone  farther  than  the  ken  of  Pilgrim  sires, 

In  their  brief  time  surveyed  :     The  sturdy  hosts 

That  throated  Tyranny  and  scorned  his  boasts, 

Knew  not  that  on  this  continent  of  streams,  — 

Of  endless  summers  and  eternal  frosts  — 

'Mid  first-born  woods,  the  light  of  Freedom  beams 

On  sovran  Nature's  lap,  inducing  patriot  dreams ! 

L. 

They  saw,  but  "  comprehended  not  the  light "  — 

Colonial  life  was  but  a  prophecy  — 

They  kindled  dimly  in  an  unknown  hight, 

But  could  no  more  —  and  paused  there  trustingly, 

Till  sons  explored  the  ages  then  to  be. 

And  while  in  silence  and  eternal  dust 

They  sleep  beneath  the  standard  they  left  free, 

A  proud  Republic  —  their  pathetic  trust  — 

Fraternal  hands  embellish,  and  forever  must ! 

LI. 

And  tho'  'tis  sad,  in  truth  it  must  be  said, 
They  died  for  Freedom  and  for  slavery  too ! 
How  noble  and  ignoble  are  our  dead, 
How  recreant  to  right,  and  yet  how  true ! 
But  o'er  a  century's  historic  view, 
The  valiant  Seminole  we  proudly  see ; 
He  died  for  Freedom;  and  the  trembling  few 
Who  fled  to  Florida  his  wards  to  be, 
He  elevated  into  freemen's  dignity ! 


OR   THE    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  79 

LII. 

He  could  not  be  enslaved  —  would  not  enslave 

The  meanest  exile  that  his  friendship  sued, 

Brave  for  himself,  defending  others  brave,  — 

The  matchless  hero  of  his  time  he  stood, 

His  noble  heart  with  freedom's  love  imbued, 

The  strong  apostle  of  Humanity ! 

'Mid  forests  wild  and  habitations  rude, 

He  made  his  bed  of  glory  by  the  sea ; 

The  friend  of  Florida  and  man,  there  let  him  be  ! 

LIII. 

Upon  the  proud  front  let  Atlassa  stand, 

Night  in  the  everglades  is  friendly  now. 

The  foe  retires  and  darkness  is  at  hand, 

And  seems  to  listen  to  the  voices  low 

Of  warriors  round  their  chief,  whose  valiant  brow 

Is  heavy  with  the  horrors  of  the  day ! 

Upon  the  turf  the  wounded  in  a  row, 

Painful  but  silent,  for  attention  lay,  — 

The  dead  to  Apalachi's  shores  are  borne  away. 

LIV. 

The  war  is  ended,  let  the  victor  rest ! 

His  brave  blood  seals  the  title  of  his  fame. 

His  fair  land  deems  him  worthy  of  her  breast, 

Historic  truth  embalms  his  warlike  name, 

While  hero  temples  well  admit  his  claim  ! 

And  when  the  epic  muse  shall  cast  around, 

A  theme  to  kindle  valor  into  flame, 

Where  Florida's  soft  palms  shade  many  a  mound, 

By  Mickasukie  and  the  sea,  will  e'er  be  found. 


8o  TWASINTA'S  SEMINOLES 

LV. 

Oh!  inexorable,  oh!  righteous  Time, 

Thy  mist-dispersing  light  o'er  us  roll  on ! 

Let  thy  just  beams  invest  the  Sunny  Clime, 

And  bring  the  truth  up  from  the  ages  gone ! 

Oh !  we  are  happy  as  we  stand  upon 

The  summit  of  a  century,  and  view 

How  hist'ry  pales  where  thy  broad  beams  have  shone  ! 

Thou  dread  revealer  of  the  old  and  new, 

Inevitable  are  thy  judgments,  just  and  true! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  8 1 

CANTO    IV. 
I. 

Gazing  upon  the  toiling  seas, 
In  gloomy  rows  the  silent  captives  sate ; 
And  as  the  ship  rode  off  before  the  breeze, 
They  murmured  not,  though  all  disconsolate ; 
But  mournful  seemed,  and  joined  to  meditate, — 
Each  other  to  regard  with  patient  sighs, 
And  gather  courage  up  to  hope  and  wait ; 
Still  looking  back,  with  sad,  reluctant  eyes, 
To  bid  a  last  adieu  to  Florida's  blue  skies ! 

II. 

Those  who  had  counselled  Tampa's  sons  of  old, 
Now  lift  their  drooping  faces  from  their  hands ; 
And  those  who  had  done  battle  stern  and  bold,  — 
Fierce  sons  of  Seminole  and  exile  bands,  — 
Look  up  as  in  their  midst  Atlassa  stands. 
Shorewards  his  arms  in  heavy  irons  stretch, 
And  while  his  mien  a  silence  deep  commands, 
His  fiery  glance  inspires  the  veriest  wretch, 
For  all  well  know  that  he's  for  mortal  foe  a  match ! 

III. 

Full  well  they  know  the  perfidy  and  guile, 

By  which  at  Tampa,  they  in  chains  were  held. 

The  insult  to  a  flag  of  truce,  so  vile, 

Astounded  all,  and  in  each  bosom  swelled, 

A  bitter,  mute  despondency.     Compelled 

To  charge  themselves  with  lack  of  wariness, 

They  felt  that  they  from  homes  were  self-expelled  ; 

So,  sighs  alone,  their  feelings  could  express, 

As  their  attentive  ear  drank  down  their  chief's  address. 


82  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

IV. 

"  My  native  Florida  !  adieu  !  adieu  ! 

I'm  looking  at  the  last  pine  on  thy  shore  ! 

Soon  other  climes  must  come  upon  my  view, 

And  thy  sweet  landscapes  meet  my  eyes  no  more  ! 

Oh  !  Florida  !  hear  now  thy  son  implore  ! 

In  thy  fair  bosom  still  remember  me  ; 

And:  while  the  billows  shall  between  us  roar, 

Or  thy  smooth  sands  shall  hear  a  lisping  sea, 

Let  these  my  latest  vows  revive  and  dwell  in  thee ! 

V. 

"  I  go  in  chains,  but  not  a  pining  slave ; 
Injured  but  conquered  not,  I  still  go  free! 
And  yet,  ye  seats  by  Mickasukie's  wave, 
How  sad  it  is  that  I  must  thus  leave  thee ! 
'Twas  in  thy  shades  I  hoped  my  grave  might  be. 
When  Peace  had  come  to  spread  her  happy  reign. 
Where  sleep  the  prophet-sires  of  liberty, 
I  proudly  deemed  that  comrades  should  have  lain 
My  weary  dust  in  rest  unbroken  to  remain ! 

VI. 

"  Ye  pines  whose  whisper's  lulled  thy  child  to  rest, 

And  whose  hoarse  anthems  nerved  him  in  the  fray, 

How  slept  thy  shades  on  Mickasukie's  breast, 

How  crept  they  from  the  threshold  of  the  day !  — 

From  such  sweet  scenes  I'll  soon  be  far  away ! 

And  Apalachi,  parted  now  from  me, 

No  words  can  utter  what  my  heart  would  say !  — 

But  while  thy  pining  shores  no  more  I  see, 

In  his  far  home,  Atlassa  still  will  think  of  thee !  " 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  83 

VII. 

The  chieftain  speaks  no  more,  but  still  doth  gaze 

Till  Florida  is  gone  and  all  is  sea. 

With  every  canvas  breathing,  sailors  raise 

Their  outward  shouts,  and  sing  right  merrily 

To  the  dark  wave's  responsive  melody: 

But  hark !  what  groans  now  fill  the  heedless  wind  ! 

The  captive  can  his  home  no  longer  see ; 

So  sinks  in  unsupported  grief  the  mind,  [hind  ! 

When  exiles  dragged  away,  must  leave  their  hearts  be- 

VIII. 

Atlassa  sees  those  who,  whilom  could  look 

Upon  him  with  a  hope  of  sure  redress ; 

And  feelings  that  e'en  his  heart  cannot  brook, 

Damp  his  averted  eyes,  and  thoughts  that  press 

Like  flame,  he  feels  and  cannot  half  express. 

There  are  his  comrades  in  long  bloody  wars ; 

Their  lips  are  still  —  their  looks  speak  none  the  less,  — 

Their  maimed  limbs,  and  their  faces  deep  with  scars, 

Are  the  dumb  eloquence  which  tells  the  wrong  that  mars. 

IX. 

There  is  a  time  when  speech  is  all  too  frail, 

There  is  a  place  where  silence  speaks  the  most : 

What  is  the  word  to  paint  a  human  wail, 

Or  how  heroic,  speak  where  all  is  lost ! 

He  who  wears  shackles  mid  his  shackled  host, 

Shows  valor's  steel  to  sturdily  behave, 

For  life  is  Freedom's  last  and  real  cost, 

And  so,  the  last  resistance  of  the  brave, 

Is  that  stern  silence  which  to  chains  prefers  grave. 


84  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

X. 

Full  well  the  patient  exile  knows  his  chief, 

Full  well  the  Seminole  regards  his  mien  ; 

For  to  look  on  him  is  a  strange  relief 

To  those  who  with  him,  other  times  have  seen, 

Ah  !  they  remember  well  what  he  hath  been,  — 

How  readily  he  sprang  to  meet  the  foe  ! 

Bearing  misfortunes  manfully  serene, 

They  see  him  now,  and  trust  that  he  may  know 

The  way  of  their  deliv'rance,  and  direct  the  blow. 

XL 

Still  sing  the  sailors  'mid  their  masts  and  spars, 

All  heedless  of  a  captive's  sighs  aboard  ! 

In  truth  'tis  a  good  time  for  jolly  tars  — 

The  heaving  canvas  hastens  them  toward 

Their  haven,  and  sea-omens  good  afford 

Continuous  presages  of  a  fair  sail ; 

While  sportive  fancy  kens  ahead  to  hoard 

The  dance,  and  sparkling  draught  that  shall  regale, 

When  they  the  Crescent  City's  busy  port  shall  hail. 

XII. 

How  near  may  men  be,  yet  how  far  apart, 

If  what  lies  all  unuttered  were  but  told ! 

How  changed  is  all  the  province  of  the  heart, 

When  different  men  the  selfsame  sights  behold  ! 

To  one  the  skies  may  glow  in  dusts  of  gold, 

Sprinkled  by  hands  of  promise,  while  the  same 

To  others  like  the  book  of  Doom  unrolled, 

May  doleful  seem,  —  toned  with  the  lurid  flame  [name. 

That  lights  the  ruins  and  gloom  of  mishaps  dread  to 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  85 

XIII. 

Atlassa  leans,  stern  looking  on  his  chains, 

All  else  unheeding  till  a  touch  he  feels, — 

Before  him  stands  the  soldier-porting  Gaines, 

His  lifted  hat  the  veteran-brow  reveals. 

With  wars  acquainted,  nought  his  mien  conceals ; 

Meeting  the  chief  as  brave  men  meet  the  brave, 

A  glance  of  mutual  admiration  seals 

The  friendliness  with  which  they  each  behave : 

"  Unbind  him,"  thunders  he,  "Atlassa  is  no  slave  !  " 

XIV. 

*  I've  thrown  away  my  rifle,"  cries  the  chief, 

"  I  hold  a  brave  hand,  we  shall  now  be  friends  ! " 

The  soldier  answers  and  his  words  were  brief;  — 

"  Only  in  battle  foes,  in  peace  strife  ends. 

In  arms,  your  conduct  to  mankind  commends 

You  as  a  warrior,  honorable  —  true. 

And  now  the  General  in  command  extends 

The  hand  of  high  fraternity  to  you,  — 

Believe  me,  sir,  and  this  with  heartfelt  pride  I  do." 

XV. 

Straightening  to  all  his  hight,  the  vet'ran  Gaines, 

With  martial  pride  investing  his  high  brow, 

The  signal  gives,  —  a  band,  discoursing  strains 

Enliv'ning,  starts  —  and  expectancy  now 

Stands  tiptoe.     Seaman  at  the  stern  and  prow, 

And  high  amid  the  rigging,  hush  and  wait !  — 

Palmecho  is  unchained  and  from  below, 

Totters  up  in  a  poor  unsteady  gait  — 

The  pathos  of  an  old  man  borne  from  sorrow's  weight ! 


86  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 


XVI. 

There  was  a  hush  upon  the  swelling  wave, 

The  spirit  of  the  waters  seemed  to  be 

A  silent  noticer.     The  full  sails  gave 

A  flutter  short  and  listened  breathlessly ; 

The  mews  came  nearer  from  the  open  sea, 

And  over  all  there  was  a  deep'ning  spell, 

Till  trumpets  flourished  loud  and  suddenly, 

And  then  sweet  strains  again  commenced  to  swell, 

When  Ewald  sprang  and  on  her  chieftain's  bosom  fell. 

XVII. 

Ewald  the  princess  of  the  sunny  isle, 

Ewald  the  idol  of  Twasinta's  vale,  — 

The  fascinating  beauty,  who,  erwhile 

A  captive  pined,  in  long  suspense  grown  pale, — 

Not  now  less  beautiful,  but  much  more  frail, 

Her  dark  unconquered  eyes  still  claim  their  reign, 

Lovely  in  triumph !  no  weak  sob  or  wail 

Escape  her  lips,  or  word  unmeet  and  vain  ; 

She  simply  looks  a  queen,  restored  to  realms  again ! 

XVIII. 

The  dark  wave  smiled,  the  sails  flapped  swifter  on, 

The  mews  were  off  about  their  foam  intent ; 

And  e'en  the  vet' ran  Gaines  was  up  and  gone, 

When  o'er  Ewald  the  silent  chieftain  leant ; 

Too  well  he  knew  what  such  reunions  meant ! 

Ah !  who  could  rudely  linger  on  the  scene, 

When  arms  reluctant  pressed  by  love  consent, 

And  lips  like  rose-buds  with  their  dews  between,  [been 

Their  dainty  sweets  yield  to  the  touch  ?     It  would  have 


OK    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  8/ 

XIX. 

A  sacrilege  polluting  e'en  the  sea ! 

Not  Jonah's  disobedience  could  have  stirred 

The  Ocean  gods  to  wrath  more  suddenly. 

This  scene  in  Neptune's  realms,  was,  in  a  word, 

A  part,  in  Bliss  Regained,  by  him  preferred 

Before  the  patrons  of  the  wave,  to  show 

That  e'en  love's  whispers  in  the  deep  are  heard  — 

That  her  entrancings  charm  the  tides  that  flow, 

And  please  the  pow'rs  that  reign  invincibly  below. 

XX. 

Ye  who  are  scornful  of  an  injured  race, — 
Who  boast  thy  fellow  mortal  to  despise, 
Look  now  on  war-worn  Games'  valiant  face, 
Look  in  the  glorious  old  commander's  eyes, 
Gaze,  as  on  Ewald's  neck  his  proud  hand  lies, 
See  how  her  sweet  hand  nestles  there  in  his  ; 
Now  with  coy  glances,  see,  she  deftly  tries 
And  wins  the  admiring  smile  which  ever  gi'es 
Woman  a  pleasure  true  and  man's  best  treasure  is. 

XXI. 

Now  ask  the  vet'ran  —  but  his  fiery  eye 

Is  on  you  !     Look  !     Draw  near !     Stand  in  its  blaze 

And  let  it  scorch !  —  Approach  him  —  there  !  ask  "  Why, 

Our  leader,  why,  Sir,  bring  us  the  disgrace 

Which  must  attach  to  fawning  Ewald's  race  ?  " 

Imagine  that  he  answers  ! —  hold  !  now  go, 

Make  haste,  forsooth !  hide  thy  repugnant  face 

Till  thou  art  cured  !  and  after  this  be  slow  [know. 

To   stretch  thy  curious   neck   life's   nobler  springs  to 


88  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XXII. 

But  we  must  hasten  to  a  foreign  shore,  — 
To  ancient  Santa  Rosa  lift  thine  eyes  ; 
There  the  worn  exiles,  free  at  last,  explore 
The  plain  that  by  no  slave  polluted  lies 
Beneath  the  peaceful  blue  of  Mexic's  skies ; 
There  may  they  taste  their  freedom  so  well  won, 
Surrounded  by  their  happy  families  ; 
There  may  rejoice  to  find  their  struggles  done, 
And  Plenty's  benedictions  close  what  wars  begun. 

XXIII. 

Where  the  wild  cactus  lifts  its  thorny  stem, 

And  sleepily  endures  the  day-long  heat, 

A  free  and  fruitful  clime  inviteth  them 

To  rest  their  whilom  weary,  wand'ring  feet. 

Oh !  how  inspiriting  the  prospect  sweet 

That  now  expands  upon  the  open  gaze ! 

Above  them  yet  their  tropic  branches  meet, 

The  fruit  boughs  hang  in  luscious  golden  maze,     [lays. 

And  winds  are  burdened  with  their  native  wood-land 

XXIV. 

Here  the  clear  stream  holds  in  its  peaceful  brim 
Such  quiet  shadows  as  to  them  recall 
The  scenes  of  Mickasukie's  forests  dim ; 
And,  mindful  still  of  what  did  them  befall, 
Though  not  cast  down,  they  rise  up  after  all, 
And  here  commence  the  dream  of  life  again. 
Soon  cheerful  hearths  unite  their  fam'lies  small, 
The  husbandman  leads  up  his  joyous  train, 
And  pleasant  farms  extend  wide  o'er  the  vocal  plain. 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  89 

XXV. 

There  stands  Atlassa  'mid  his  hopeful  few, 

The  future  contemplates  and  looks  before. 

The  battle  storm  that  erst  around  him  drew 

Them  to  defend  their  wasted  land  is  o'er. 

And  now  lamenting  not  his  native  shore, 

He  rises  still  as  one  born  to  command, 

And  challenge  comrade's  courage  tried  once  more. 

He  waves  the  signal  of  his  gifted  hand, 

And  valiantly  they  go  to  subjugate  the  land. 

XXVI. 

He  led  them  forth  of  old,  they  knew  not  where, 

He  followed  with  them  o'er  the  mournful  wave ; 

They  halted  in  the  wilderness,  and  there 

The  human  hunter  waited  to  enslave,  — 

He  stepped  to  front  again  their  leader  brave, 

And  when  the  foe  came  on  with  haughty  stride, 

A  death  blow  to  his  insolence  he  gave : 

Then  came  the  weary  march,  thro'  forests  wide, 

Till  they  were  safe  beyond  the  Rio  Grande's  tide. 

XXVII. 

There,  mourning  not,  they  toil  and  hope  again,  — 

They  look  not  back,  their  sodden  cheeks  are  dry ; 

And  yet,  I  ween,  there  is  an  inward  pain 

To  those  whose  kindred  all  unnoticed  lie 

Beneath  the  sad  sun  of  a  foreign  sky. 

The  South  wind  whispers  to  them  o'er  the  wave, 

And  dampness  is,  perhaps,  come  in  some's  eye 

Who  thinks  of  a  dear,  well-remembered  grave ; 

But  all  to  mourn  are  too  long  suffering  and  too  brave. 


90  TWASINTA'S  SEMINOLES 

XXXVIII. 

Since  he  who  looks  upon  a  glorious  day 

Expiring  on  the  threshold  of  the  West,  ' 

Must  breathe  a  thoughtful  wish  to  be  away  ; 

And  feel  within  him  dying  unexprest 

The  seer-voiced  longings  of  the  heart's  unrest ; 

May  we  not  trust  that,  in  the  evermore, 

A  friendlier  clime  awaits  the  pensive  breast ; 

May  we  not  hope  to  reach  a  farther  shore, 

And  catch  the  billows  listing  where  they  cease  to  roar? 

XXIX. 

Oh !  must  it  ever  come  that  earth  shall  be 

A  sable  field  of  barrenness  ?     A  waste 

Of  hollow  sounds?     Must  fruitless  nature  see 

Her  seasons  end?     And  sunless  days  —  the  last  — 

Roll  sightless  on  mid  desolations  vast? 

Must  Time  in  silence  view  her  broken  urn, 

Or  sit  to  brood  upon  an  empty  Past  ? 

Bereft  of  years,  must  she  a  widow  mourn, 

And  to  her  childless  breast  will  joy  no  more  return  ? 

XXX. 

And  since  there  is,  as  hope  is  prone  to  sing, 

A  "  Happy  Land,"  why  say  "  far,  far  away  ?  " 

May  not  the  restful  soul  be  lingering 

Still  near  its  mansion  of  deserted  clay  ? 

The  unembodied  spirit,  why  not  say, 

By  matter  all  unhindered,  is  at  home ; 

Whether  delighted  round  the  earth  to  stray, 

Or  in  a  farther  universe  to  roam,  — 

A  guest  of  future  worlds,  —  then  back  at  times  to  come  ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  QI 

XXXI. 

If  conscious  life  about  the  earth  might  stroll, 

A  child  of  Reason  still,  it  then  were  sweet 

To  think  on  a  Republic  of  the  soul  — 

Community  of  Spirits  —  where  lives  meet 

To  walk  the  earth  they've  known,  with  joyous  feet, 

Unharrowed  by  abysmal  thoughts  of  Death ; 

Reason  would  then  hold  her  delightful  seat, 

And  tho'  what's  mortal,  but  a  mist,  a  breath, 

Were  passed  away,  life  still  would  be  her  "  shibboleth." 

XXXII. 

'Twere  sweet  to  live,  if  cherishing  the  trust 

That  life  ttse/fdoth  from  the  flesh-life  spring, — 

That  what  survives  affection's  tender  dust 

Is  this  existence,  only  brightening 

With  azure  grace  and  an  immortal  wing ! 

Then  might  we  hope  to  feel  as  we  have/*?//, 

And  know  the  subtle  shadow  wavering 

Between  the  where  we  may  dwell  and  have  dwelt ; 

Then  might  we  realize  that  not  in  vain  we've  knelt. 

XXXIII. 

If  then,  this  be,  how  sweet  the  pleasing  dream,  — 

When  life  had  rilled  its  shadow  and  its  shine,  — 

That  led  the  savage  by  his  dark- wood  stream, 

To  seek  a  heaven  beneath  his  leafy  shrine  ! 

In  pathos  sweet  and  tenderness  divine, 

This  solace  for  the  poorest  heart  pleads : 

When  this  life  o'er  her  empty  urn  shall  pine, 

She  sit  to  mourn  not  in  eternal  weeds ; 

But,  part  the  shade  into  the  shine  that  there  succeeds. 


92  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XXXIV. 

Those  who  have  labored  up  dogmatic  Blancs 

To  freeze  on  horrid  crags,  or  dash  below 

Into  some  mangling  chasm  did  leave  the  banks 

And  shades  of  safety  in  the  plain,  to  know, 

Only  too  late,  that  such  hights  can  but  show 

Distances  too  sublime  by  far  to  reach,  — 

Only  too  late,  that  tend'rest  comforts  grow 

Where  love's  sweet  whispers  cluster  round,  to  teach 

The  dear  humanity  that  they  disdained  to  preach. 

XXXV. 

Who  can  ascend  against  Thy  awful  brow, 

Omnipotence  !     About  Thee  Thou  dost  gird 

The  elements  !     Thine  avalanches  flow 

Down  the  incomputable  years  !  and  heard 

Eternally  comes  forth  Thy  Sovran  Word, 

To  warn  man  back !     Thy  presence  who  can  bear? 

E'en  of  old  in  mountains  thou  appeared, 

And  from  thine  upper  worlds  man  Thee  did  hear, 

And  quake  to  stand  in  clouds  of  an  unmortal  fear ! 

XXXVI. 

Thou  warnest  me  the  mortal  task  to  shun, 
Of  tempting  thy  dread  paths  above  to  find. 
Stern,  silent,  incomprehensible  One ! 
Thou  risest  boundlessly  above  the  mind ! 
But  here  below  thou  hast  for  love  entwined 
An  altar  with  the  leaf  of  life,  and  bloom, 
Round  which,  pathetic  human  tendrils  bind 
The  off' rings  of  our  hands.     May  its  perfume 
Exhale  in  all  the  earth,  as  freedom's  fires  consume ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  93 

XXXVIL, 

But  we  have  wandered  :     If  the  Seminole 

May  ever  reach  again  his  native  shore, 

How  sweet  to  think  of  his  unhindered  soul 

Revisiting  the  scenes  he  loved  before  ! 

But  if  the  hope  offend  we  say  no  more : 

We  leave  him  in  his  Mexic  home  at  rest, 

And  still  may  dream  that  he  shall  yes  pass  o'er 

The  dimpling  waves  of  Mickasukie's  breast, 

Yet  press  the  flow'ry  brinks,  that  he  before  has  prest ! 

XXXVIII. 

The  exiles  came  unto  an  ancient  well,  — 

Atlassa  sat  and  Ewald  by  him  stood, 

While  golden  glories  of  the  sunset,  fell 

Like  dreams  of  heav'n  on  Santa  Rosa's  wood. 

A  shim'ring  silence  filled  the  solitude. 

There  was  no  time  for  speech.     Palmecho  moaned 

For  joy,  and  wept,  and  their  responses  rude, 

With  feelings  deep  and  weirdly  undertoned, 

The  warriors  gave,  still  gazing  on  the  earth  peace-zoned. 

XXXIX. 

Oh  !  God  !  in  all  Thy  glorious  works,  Thy  praise 

Is  mightiest  mid  the  hosts  of  Liberty ! 

She  leads  mankind  in  devious  unknown  ways, 

And  sounds  her  timbrels  o'er  a  conquered  sea, 

While  vocal  mountains  catch  the  rising  glee  ! 

And,  where  afar  her  patient  children  roam, 

The  desert  wakes  to  join  their  jubilee  ! 

They  pass  or  rest,  despising  what  may  come ; 

Only  to  dwell  with  thee,  the  wide  world  is  their  home. 


94  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XL. 

Hail !  home  of  exiles  and  of  Seminoles  ! 

Hail !  Mexico,  thou  weak  but  goodly  land  ! 

The  Day  of  Freedom  onward  grandly  rolls, 

And  thou  shalt  yet  receive  the  greeting  hand 

Of  her,  who  once  did  like  a  vulture  stand, 

To  gorge  upon  thy  sons  by  slave  power  slain ! 

The  world's  respect,  ere  long  thou  shalt  command ; 

And  when  the  hosts  of  Freedom  come  amain ;    [plain  ! 

Thy  sons  shall  join  their  shouts  ascending  from  the 

XLI. 

Those  who  once  came  upon  thee  with  the  sword, 
Are  coming  now  with  pruning  hooks  and  plows ; 
And  plains,  once  trampled  by  the  spoiler's  horde, 
Are  green  with  fields,  and  sweet  with  fruitful  boughs. 
Awake  thou  ebon  maid !  awake  !  arouse ! ! 
Throw  wide  thy  gates !  unlock  thy  treasures  now  ! 
The  proud  cause  of  humanity  espouse ; 
And  from  thy  miser-clutching  hills  shall  flow 
The  wealth  that  yet  must  glitter  in  thy  sunny  brow ! 

XLII. 

Rise  from  thy  ancient  mounds  !  cells  of  the  dead, 

Of  whom  e'en  Legend  recollects  no  tale ; 

Presumption  only,  sees  the  life  they  led 

In  squalid  hut,  and  still,  unplanted  dale  : 

And  even  she  is  sad  to  lift  the  veil ! 

Oh  !  what  must  they  have  been !     Oh  !  how  expire 

And  on  the  ears  of  Time  leave  not  a  wail  ? 

In  all  the  past,  there  smokes  no  altar  fire  — 

To  what  renown  could  such  a  stupid  race  aspire  ! 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  9$ 

XLIII. 

And  yet  may  lowly  joys  have  there  been  born, 

Rude  tho'  the  scenes  'mid  which  her  patrons  met. 

The  sheep  boy's  carol  and  the  mountain  horn, 

And  merry  note  of  pipe  or  flageolet, 

May  well  be  deemed  the  things  we  can't  forget ; 

And  these  may  there  have  soothed  the  rustic's  ear, 

Still,  still  it  comes,  unceasing  with  regret, 

That  there  remains  no  lingering  mark  of  cheer  — 

That  not  a  solitary  annal  doth  appear. 

XLIV. 

We  leave  thee  with  thy  guests,  thou  sunny  maid ! 

The  daughter  of  Twasinta  dwells  with  thee ; 

The  chief  of  Tampa  and  the  everglade 

Is  with  her,  and  will  strive  to  keep  thee  free. 

Rise  thou  into  a  nation's  dignity, 

And  freedom's  acclamations  spread  around ! 

As  Rio  Grande  rolls  down  to  the  sea, 

Let  the  omnific  waters  catch  the  sound, 

"A  queen  of  beauty  in  the  West  is  Mexic  crowned  ! " 

XLV. 

Farewell,  thy  guests  !     The  light  is  almost  gone 

That  kindled  for  them  in  the  everglades  ! 

In  all  our  shores  the  day  of  slavery's  done. 

Midst  the  wild  freedom  of  our  mighty  shades, 

Now,  every  man  whose  soul  the  hope  pervades 

Of  life,  and  liberty,  and  happiness, 

May  join  with  Sovran  Labor's  plows  and  spades, 

And  jocund  axes  in  the  wilderness, 

To  dig  and  hew  away  primeval  want's  fortress. 


96  TWASINTA'S   SEMINOLES 

XLVI. 

Who  finds  this  country  now,  exulting  finds 
That  nature  sounds  the  anthems  of  the  free,  — 
The  boundless  prairie  swept  by  restless  winds, 
Great  forests  shouting  on  tumultuously, 
Rivers  that  send  their  greetings  to  the  sea, 
Peace-loving  vales,  where  weed-brimmed  waters  run, 
Broad  lakes,  whose  shade-fringed  margins  lisp  their  glee, 
Mountains,  that  prop  their  green  heights  in  the  sun, 
And  herded  slopes  that  winter  never  looks  upon ! 

XLVII. 

Priestcraft  and  Tyranny  must  not  unchain 

The  mind  and  limb  of  man  and  send  him  here ; 

Or  they  will  never  see  their  dupe  again, 

So  soon  'mong  freemen  will  he  disappear. 

The  sights  to  make  him  free  are  everywhere : 

He  can  not  see  the  farmer  tilling  corn, 

And  whistling  at  his  plow,  as  blithe  and  clear 

As  lark  or  linnet  in  the  dew-sprent  morn, 

And  not  feel  freedom's  wishes  in  him  being  born. 

XLVIII. 

He  can  not  wander  in  our  roads,  or  stay 

Beneath  our  shades  unmoved  by  what  he  sees,  — 

The  full  ripe  orchard  by  his  dusty  way, 

Busy  with  children  and  alive  with  bees ; 

The  cool  spring  underneath  the  green  oak  trees ; 

The  cider  mill  a  going  merrily, 

And  farmer  looking  on  in  his  brown  ease,  — 

He  can  not,  seeing  these,  but  long  to  be 

A  sovereign,  gathering  gold  crowns  from  the  appletree. 


OR    RAPE    OF    FLORIDA.  97 

XLIX. 

This  is  a  land  of  free  limb  and  free  thought  — 
Freedom  for  all,  home-keeping  or  abroad,  — 
Here  man  is  all  unhindered,  as  he  ought, 
Dreading  no  priest's  rebuke,  no  despot's  nod, 
In  high  respect  of  Right,  the  friend  of  God ! 
Sole  sovereign  of  himself,  by  nature  throned, 
Planting  his  titles   n  the  royal  sod, 
He  spreads  his  reign  were  labor's  might  is  owned, 
And  harvests  revenues  for  which  no  subject  groaned. 


The  veriest  serf,  whose  shiv'ring  manhood  hears 

Niagara's  astounding  waters  fall, 

Must  find  that  awe  of  man  there  disappears 

In  mists  of  infinite  spray :     He  can  not  call 

His  monarch's  name  and  feel  its  spell  and  thrall ; 

For  human  might  is  swept  off  in  the  gaze 

And  awe  of  One  Sublime  Stupendous  All ! 

And  nought  survives  except  the  soul  to  raise 

To  one  great  God  a  whisper  of  deep,  sincere  praise ! 

LI. 

Thus  ends  my  lay :     Reluctantly  I  leave 

Atlassa  and  his  sweet-eyed  Southern  maid  ; 

Palmecho,  too,  with  whom  I  much  did  grieve, 

I  turn  from  sadly !     Could  they  but  have  stayed 

Beneath  their  "vines  and  fig  trees,"  not  afraid  ! 

Yet  by  their  Santa  Rosa  let  them  dwell, 

Rejoicing  in  their  freedom,  long  delayed  ! 

And  while  my  heart's  untrained  emotions  swell, 

Once  more  I  turn  to  gaze  and  sigh  :  farewell !  farewell ! 


fc/38-7? 


